


Whose side are you on, anyway?

by LapisLazuli786



Series: Whose Side Are You On, Anyway? [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fremione AU, HP: EWE, Slow Burn, life at hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapisLazuli786/pseuds/LapisLazuli786
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOW REFORMATTED!    Fremione AU of Philosopher's Stone, the first part in a seven book long series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Army of One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, you wanted it, I provided it: More Fremione! *cheering noises* no but really, I hope you enjoy this and please keep the feedback coming because it really helps me out in the motivation department. ^.^

Hermione was eleven years, eleven months and twelve days old when she arrived at Kings Cross with her parents to board the Hogwarts Express. She had known she was a witch for eleven months and nineteen days. She had read a hundred and eleven books (from her reading list and from the recommendations of Dimitrius, the manager of Flourish and Blotts) cover to cover and there were currently thirty four main anxious thoughts that her brain was cycling through, but the number that was worrying her most was that of how many people she would have with her as she stepped on to the train for first time. Zero.

Her parents had been wonderful. So supportive that she sometimes welled up if she thought about it too long. But when she left them today, they wouldn’t be able to follow. No matter how many questions they asked about the magic world, about what she was reading about, the laws and systems that ruled both magical energy and governance, from the moment Professor McGonagall had appeared on the Granger’s doorstep, Hermione had been held apart from her parents. Their average, nuclear family unit had been irrevocably altered by the knowledge that there was something in Hermione’s blood that was not present in theirs – she had the key to a whole other world that they could not enter, and a burning desire to join it, no matter the consequences. She didn’t plan on abandoning them, of course, but she had known from the moment she’d set eyes on the severe, powerful woman who had rapped on the front door a week before her eleventh birthday that she wanted to follow where she led.

And where she led, apparently, was Kings Cross Station.  
  
“Okay, so you’ve definitely got everything you need, right?” Hermione’s mother was trying her hardest not to sound panicked but it wasn’t quite enough.  
  
“Yes, mum – I am completely and utterly sure, just like I was five minutes ago.” She smiled reassuringly at her mother who tried to look disapproving at her daughter’s cheek but ended up smirking anyway.  
  
“Maybe it’s a good thing we’re getting rid of you, little madam,” her father raised an eyebrow at her and she grinned innocently back, even as her mother repressed a moment of horror at his words.  
  
“I’m sure you’re really delighted.” She paused, glancing at the huge clock that loomed over them. Five minutes. There was really no putting it off any longer. She turned back to them and opened her mouth again, but they had seen where her gaze had wandered and – really – what more was there to say?  
  
“Okay love, you’d best get going – find a seat with some _nice_ kids.” She knew her father had been afraid that the bullying she had suffered at her primary school would carry through to her secondary education and was especially anxious about the new and cruel ways magic might be used to make it even worse. She tried to pretend she wasn’t worried about the same thing.  
  
“Yes, and don’t worry if you don’t meet anyone right away because you know you’ll have plenty of time once you get there…” Mrs Granger was smoothing her daughter’s hair down compulsively and had to be gently forced to stop long enough for Hermione to give them both a hug.  
  
“I’ll do my best,” she said quietly, squeezed one last time and then began walking away with her trunk, eyes burning with unshed tears.  
“Oh, and Hermione?” It was her mother. She looked over her shoulder to see her face set with determination, “don’t you dare let anybody tell you that you don’t belong there.”  
  
The tears spilled over down onto Hermione’s cheek and she paused for a moment to brush them away.  
  
“Never.” She said, and her parents both returned her resolute nod.  
  
She boarded the train.


	2. First Mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to recruit some friends. SPOILER: She's not good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to skip over the bits I've stolen from the movie script, I won't feel bad, promise.

Hermione had never been on a school bus; her father had always driven her to school in his car on the way to work, but she imagined this is what it must be like. Of course, muggle school busses wouldn’t generally be populated with cats. Nor, she supposed, would there be quite this number of enchanted paper planes whizzing overhead. She ducked as one almost poked her in the eye and found herself face to face with a ginger cat. It blinked at her curiously.

“Hello there,” she said to it, and put out a hand to scratch between its ears. It purred happily. _There_ , she thought, _one friend sorted_. She snorted at herself and then gave a yelp as the friend in question leapt away from her and down the carriage. She sighed as she stared after it. Didn’t really bode well, really.

“Whoops.” Startled, Hermione turned back to see the source of the voice and – she realized – the reason for the cat’s hasty retreat. It was a boy, at least a couple of years older than her with dark red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. He had clearly just burst out of the carriage behind her and, quite apart from scaring the cat away, had almost launched her across the train too.

“Not really a good idea to stop in the middle of the way, firstie,” he said, and she wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended by his tone. She kept her mouth shut as she stood up just in case. He stared at her, an amused smile spreading across his face. “Not got a thing for gingers, have you?” He was nodding in the direction the cat had run in and Hermione answered without thinking.

“They’re just so nice to cuddle.” She blushed – that sounded so childish. He cocked and eyebrow.

“Yeah, well maybe when we know each other better, eh?” She felt her eyes go round as dinner plates and the heat in her cheeks doubled. He laughed then, properly – at her stupidity, she supposed – and then pointed down the train a ways. “First years tend to sit over there, near where the trolley lady is now,” He started to walk away and then turned back, “keep an eye out for my brother – Ron – he’s your type too.” With one last wink, he disappeared, and she was left standing in the middle of the train, the colour of a tomato. 

As far as first interactions with fellow students went, she thought it might have gone better, but there was no use fussing over it now. All she had left to do was hope that the information he’d given her before he left was born out of pity rather than malice, and that she would find somewhere suitable to sit soon. Before she could reach the trolley lady, however, she was stopped yet again by a boy bursting out from a carriage. 

“Sorry!” This one actually sounded like he meant it, at least, and it was clear from his demeanour that he was a first year too.  
“It’s no problem,” she said, and then, in the clear strong voice she’d practiced with her parents, “I’m Hermione Granger.” She stuck out her hand and he stared at it for a second – right, scrap that bit next time – before shaking it timidly with his own.

“Neville Longbottom.” He even said his own name like he was apologizing for it, “I’m looking for my toad – Trevor.” A perfect opportunity for friend making! She knew exactly what the right thing to do here was.  
  
“I can help you look for him, if you like!” She smiled at him cheerily and he nodded, blinking warily at her.  
  
“Thanks!” He said, and then hurried off away from her. She stared after him. Was she doing something wrong? _Stop overthinking_ , she told herself, _don’t do this to yourself_. Right. All she had to do now was focus on finding the toad. Maybe when she did, she’d secure Neville as a friend – and now she had an excuse to enter carriages where her classmates had already sat down. She took a deep breath and slid open the door the carriage just behind Neville’s. She would be systematic about this.

“Excuse me, has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one and I’m just trying to-“  
“The only toad in here is you – get out!” It was a blonde haired boy with a smug face who spoke. He looked around at his three companions – two boys and a girl – and they laughed on cue.  
  
“Really! How rude!” She could almost feel her hair raising as she glared at them indignantly.  
  
“Rude is bursting into cabins you don’t belong in!” It was the girl this time. She tucked a strand of sleek dark hair away from her face and almost lazily flicked a wand at Hermione. She felt herself being pushed back out of the door and heard it slam closed in front of her as she just managed to stop herself from falling over. The muffled sound of their laughter came from behind it and she debated whether or not she should go back in and give them a piece of her mind… but it didn’t seem like they were the kind of people her reasoning would have an effect on. With a quick reminder to herself about lost causes, she continued down the corridor. While no one was as outwardly rude to her as the first four had been, no one had seen Trevor, and no one seemed to want to be especially friendly towards her either.

There was a pompous looking boy who introduced himself as Ernie Macmillan and seemed very interested in telling her all about how magically gifted he was, but that was about it. There were three girls who couldn’t seem to stop giggling at Hermione’s clothes – she went to change into her robes in a toilet after that – and couple who ignored her altogether, and by the time she got to the last carriage she was feeling rather short tempered. 

“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.” It sounded flat by now, and she didn’t even look up into the cabin until after she’d finished her question. Sitting in front of her was another red head, wand raised over a fat grey rat.

“Sorry, no – we haven’t seen one.” She turned to see another boy, this one with a shock of black hair. By this point, however, she hadn’t been expecting another answer.

“Are you doing magic?” She felt her heart rate raise a little. Even now, she was amazed every time she saw someone perform wizardry; these kids who’d grown up with magical families…. It was amazing what they could do. Even the dark haired girl behind the first cruel door – maybe if Hermione had known something to retaliate with she could have done something to prove herself. Show everyone she belonged there. “Let’s see then.”

She saw the boys exchange a glance, exasperated. It didn’t bother her too much, she was used to this from everyone from her parents to her old classmates. She stood her ground and looked expectantly at the red-head. He shrugged and raised his wand again.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow... turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” The stupid fat rat in question remained stubbornly grey and the three of them grimaced together.

“Are you sure that's a real spell?” Neither of them answers her. “Well, it's not very good is it?” It was a statement of fact, and she didn’t know why it should offend either of them, and yet she saw the annoyed look the boy shot to his friend. She realised suddenly that this was her last chance. There were no carriages behind this one. If she was going to make a friend on this train it would have to be one of these two boys. _Prove yourself, prove yourself, prove yourself-_ “Of course, I’ve only tried a few simple ones myself, but they’ve all worked for me.” Right. Here goes… “For example,” She sat down opposite the dark haired boy, “ _Occulus Reparo!_ ”  
  
There was a minor stunned silence as she inspected her work. “That’s better isn’t it?” She leaned forward to check that the lenses we unscratched too and caught sight of the lightning bolt scar on the boy’s forehead. “Holy cricket!” She exclaimed, without thinking, “You’re Harry Potter!” _That was rude, bring it back-_ “I’m Hermione Granger.” _No handshake, good,_ “and you are?” She still didn’t feel particularly warmly towards the boy who was sharing such impolite looks with his friend about her intrusion. He’d stuffed a whole pastie into his mouth so his response was muffled.  
  
“Um. Ron Weasley.” She frowned. _Oh._  
  
“I think I met your brother earlier.” Ron scoffed.  
  
“Which one? I’ve got five.” Hermione paused for a moment trying to imagine how it would feel to live with five siblings instead of zero.  
  
“It was just down the train a bit, red hair… freckles…” She gathered from his eye roll that this didn’t narrow it down.  
  
“What did he say about me?”  
  
“He-” Hermione stumbled on her words as she remembered the joke – _he’s your type too_ – ginger.  
  
“If it’s something you can’t repeat it was definitely Fred.” Said Ron, knowingly. “He’s the one that gave me this spell. Prat.” He added the last word as an afterthought and took another bite from the pastie. She looks at him distastefully.  
  
“Right. You two best change into robes, I expect we'll be arriving soon.” She stood, deciding she should probably find Neville and turning to look at them one last time. “You've got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know? Just there.” Another statement of fact and yet it still seemed to annoy him. While this was the longest interaction she’d had with anyone so far, she wouldn’t exactly call it successful. Still, there was always time when they got to the castle. And, of course, if she could get no one else on her side, there was Neville.


	3. Picking a Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorting time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a roll! Enjoy it while you can :P

Of course the two people she’d come closest to making friends with ended up being trouble makers. Ron Weasley, who’d grown up in a pure blood family surrounded by magic, and Harry Potter, who’d gone down in wizard history books before he’d turned two – what did they care if they were caught fighting on the train? Ron claimed it was Scabbers - his rat – who’d done the damage, but Hermione was pretty sure they hadn’t been particularly friendly to the boys who’d stopped by their carriage. Not that she was feeling especially fond of Draco Malfoy (he’d been rather keen about announcing his name) and his gang after her first experience with them, but she knew her position in the magical world was so fragile… she could not risk doing anything that would get her into trouble. Or being friends with people who did. She had a sneaking suspicion that she would be spending a good amount of her school year trying to keep those boys on the straight and narrow. She just hoped it would be worth it.

When the train stopped, she walked with Neville towards the gigantic lantern-waving man and followed him down a steep narrow path until-  
“Oh!” Hogwarts. Despite what she had always believed about books being the ultimate mode of transport, there was nothing like actually seeing it with her own eyes. She realised with half-amusement half anxiety, that she hadn’t been entirely convinced of its existence until right this second. But there it was. Not a fantastical place in a book but a real bricks and mortar castle, towers and all. And she could see it. Muggles could only see a ruin with a sign telling them to turn back but _she, Hermione Granger_ could see it. She must belong here. She had to.

She and Neville climbed into a boat after Harry and Ron, Hermione keeping her eyes fixed on the lights of the castle as they glided towards it over the Black Lake. Astronomy, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, she counted off the towers in her head, recalling the map on the inside cover of Hogwarts: A History. Her home would be in one of those last two – she knew that much. She had discussed this with her parents before leaving – she brushed away a sudden pang of longing – and there had been some debate about where she would end up. Her father had jokingly declared that of course she would be in Ravenclaw, little smarty-pants. They had heard enough of her orations on books and learning to know that. Her mother though… She’d given her a strange, appraising look.

_“Do you remember when we used to read Winnie-the-Pooh together?”_  
  
_She had laughed. “Mum, that was ages ago – I hardly think being able to read children’s books qualifies me as a ‘wit beyond measure’ kind of person.”_  
  
_“That’s not what I was thinking of,” Her mother had smiled at her, “I was thinking ‘You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.’” Hermione had frowned._  
  
_“So… what are you saying? I could be in Gryffindor?” Her mother shook her head, laughing._  
  
_“I’m saying… I’m saying you could be anywhere you wanted to be.”_

She still didn’t quite understand what her mother had been getting at, but she had got bits of it. There was something in there about choice and belief. She knew she would be safe in Ravenclaw, surrounded by people who valued intelligence, how could she not be? And yet… She could see a chocolate frog card sticking up out of Harry Potter’s pocket. Dumbledore. He had been a Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall, who’d been Hermione’s hero from the first moment she saw her, was head of Gryffindor. And wasn’t Hermione-? Couldn’t Hermione be brave? Surely the fact that she was here at all was bravery. Surely her determination to be the best that she could be was brave? The thought of being amongst Gryffindors – the loud brash people she saw as their champions in all the books she’d read – was terrifying to her. A House like that could swallow her up.  
Or-  
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall was saying, as they walked through the huge oak front door of the castle, “…while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts.” She met Hermione’s eyes as she spoke and gave an almost imperceptible nod of recognition as she continued speaking.  
Or maybe, they could be enormous, beautifully boisterous family she’d never had.

*

When they lined up to put the sorting hat on, she heard Ron say something to Harry about Fred claiming they’d have to fight a troll to be sorted. She had been muttering spells to herself, in case there were any she’d need to use, but the sound of this comment brought her out of her head as she scoffed to herself – the image of this lanky boy in front of her trying to fight a troll keeping her distracted almost to the point of not hearing her own name when it was called.  
  
“Granger, Hermione.” She froze for a second and then almost tripped hurrying to the stool to make up for it. To cover up her embarrassment, she jammed the hat eagerly onto her head and sat perfectly still, waiting.  
  
“Hmm… Granger… yes, quite enough in here to put you in Ravenclaw if you wanted, very bright indeed-“  
  
Hermione swallowed. She hadn’t known the hat would talk to her.  
  
“Not afraid of hard work either… though – I expect you might be a little bored in Hufflepuff, and you’re not quite forgiving enough-“ She almost opens her mouth to snap back at it but the voice cuts her off again.  
  
“Well, well! There’s some fire in here too, eh? Untapped, mostly, at the moment of course…” Hermione held her breath, and stared out in front of her, eyes wandering to the Gryffindor table. With a shock, she recognised the boy who she’d seen first on the Hogwarts Express. He was looking at her curiously, and when their eyes met, he cocked his eyebrow again as if to say – _so what do you think you’re made of?_  
  
_Stronger stuff than you know_ , she thought, remembering the Winnie-the-Pooh quote her mother had recited. She felt herself stick out her chin, her back straightening, and-  
  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
  
The voice rang out over the hall and it broke into applause, loudest from the table draped in red and gold. She pursed her lips as she stood and removed the hat. She had done it. She felt a smirk spread across her face. _She had chosen to be brave._


	4. Side Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione deals with the consequences of her choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow still going! (Forgive me)

The first person to greet her when she got to the table was- 

“Percy Weasley, Gryffindor Prefect,” who gestured to her to sit on the bench beside him.

“How many of you are there here?” she asked incredulously as she sat down.

“Prefects? Two for each house, and there’s-“

“The Head Boy and the Head Girl, yes – I know – no, I meant, Weasley brothers. I’ve already met two and now you as well,” They paused in their conversation to clap as the next student was sorted.

“You’ll have met Ron, I suppose –yes, he’s the youngest. He’s currently got three possible role models in school (Charlie left a couple of years ago and Bill is quite a bit older). We must hope he chooses to emulate me rather than-“ He nodded pointedly over at where the other two Weasleys sat, attempting to steal their friend’s tarantula. The twin she’d already met chose that moment to look up at her and grinned when she looked surprised.

“They’re twins!”

“Yes,” said Percy, “Fred on the right and George on the left, twins run in the family.”

She was momentarily distracted as Neville sat down next to her – she tried to hide her surprise that he’d been sorted into Gryffindor – with the Sorting Hat still on his head.

*

Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, much to the Weasley twins’ delight, clearly, and Ron joined his brothers soon after. Hermione had been paying far more attention to her conversation with Percy about magical school subjects than she had to her dinner and it was over far quicker than she thought. The Headmaster gave his speech and announcements and then led the hall in a disastrously unorganised rendition of the Hogwarts school song. Given that everyone had just picked their favourite tune and gone with it, it wasn’t really surprising that they all finished at different times, but when Fred and George were still going even after everyone else had petered out, she decided she’d gotten a pretty clear idea of what they were about.

She glanced up to see that Professor Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind – seemed to be quite enjoying it, in fact – and half rolled her eyes at them. This is what she had been afraid of, that Gryffindor might be full of attention seeking behaviour. Apparently she’d made a tutting noise that could be heard even above the enthusiastic singing because they both looked at her at the same time and then threw a quick glance at each other. Hermione bit her lip, hoping they weren’t offended and then-

“BRING US BACK WHAT WE FORGOT!” They had suddenly doubled in volume – in perfect synchronicity – and were reaching out hands to her. She blanched, going red immediately under their unapologetically intense eye-contact as students on the table looked over at her curiously.  
  
“JUST! DO! YOUR! BEST! WE'LL! DO! THE! REST!” Fred winked at her and then they both closed their eyes in identical expressions of mock passion, flexing every muscle in their bodies, boyband fists still in the air.  
  
“AND LEEEEAAAAAARN UNTIL OUR BRAAAAIIIINS ALL ROOOOOOOT!” They both fell to their knees as the song finished and the hall broke into thunderous applause, Professor Dumbledore looked like he might be crying from laughing. Hermione, still red in the face, sat down as quickly as possible, even as the twins drew out the applause with multiple bows. Fred smirked at her as he and his brother finally sat down. She was beginning to think that this infuriating look of his – the raised eyebrow, the slanted mouth – was going to be more of a problem than anything else in this new world.

*

Hermione lay in her new bad staring at the ceiling. She’d followed Percy’s female counterpart, Alice Baker, to the dorms and had found all her luggage neatly laid in the middle of a four-poster bed. The two girls she was sharing the dorm with, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had briefly tried to include her in a giggle/gossip fest but she found she didn’t really have the desire or the means to keep up with them. She’d been lying in bed for an hour with the curtains drawn before they quietened down and fell asleep. It was no use. She knew herself well enough to see that there was no way her brain was shutting down any time soon. She could almost feel the thoughts whirring around in there – the castle, the homesickness, the in-depth analysis of every interaction she’d had that day. With a deep breath she sat up and leant over to tug her trunk out from under the bed. Moving a set of quills to one side, she pulled out her books. _Hogwarts: A History_ , _Transfiguration: Grade One_ and- what? Hermione had definitely not packed that. She opened the book and a piece of paper fell out onto her lap.

_Hermione-_  
  
_We know you’ll probably have trouble sleeping tonight so we packed an extra comfort book. Remember what we talked about. You’re capable of anything you put your brilliant mind to. We love you._

_Mum and Dad x_

 

When she woke up, it was with _The Collected Works of A. A. Milne_ still clutched to her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for getting this far - feedback is much appreciated *nudge nudge wink wink*


	5. The Wrong Side of the Tracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione accidentally goes on an out-of-hours adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I'm facing a little bit of a dilemma in my writing. As this is a retelling, I'm picking up a lot of plot points from the original and just writing them from Hermione's viewpoint. I feel like I need to do this in order to develop her character in the way I want it to go for this story but I'm also conscious that it might be boring for you to read something you're already familiar with. If you'd prefer me to only focus on the bits I've actually changed or added in from the original work then let me know and I'll try to cut out the extraneous repetition.

It turned out that her suspicions about having to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble were more right than she hoped. The former, of course, attracted whispers and points wherever he went. She felt quite sorry for him; if it had been her, she’d have been mortified. Attention in the classroom, she didn’t mind but to have a wave of gossip follow her wherever she went… it would be unbearable.

As it was, he seemed to be coping quite well, often exchanging weary looks with Ron but never talking back to anyone who pointed him out like he was an animal at the zoo. Hermione tried not to feel panicky about the fact that they still hadn’t really accepted her as a friend. Her dorm mates were pleasant enough but they didn’t have much in common; especially given that they had all grown up among wizards. Neville, of course, never shunned her, although she got the feeling it was more because he was scared of her than anything else. He looked positively mortified when she offered to help him out with transfiguration. Then again, her skill in classes wasn’t endearing her much to anybody.  
She managed to sit with Ron and Harry in most lessons, but they seemed to resent how often she drew attention to their table with her raised hand. 

“Fungi, Professor Sprout!”  
  
“Levitation, Professor Flitwick!”  
  
“Please, Professor McGonagall, the second factor is pronunciation!”

The first few times, she turned with a smile to the boys, to see if they were impressed or wanted to congratulate her. Harry sometimes gave her a tight-lipped smile and Neville often grimaced in a way she supposed might be intended to be encouraging, but the exasperation and eye rolling on Ron’s part meant she soon gave up trying there. She comforted herself with the thought that, if nothing else, at least she as making good progress in her lessons. Of course, she was nowhere near where she wanted to be, but she couldn’t see that anyone else in her classes was doing any better, and her fears about being an impostor at Hogwarts lessened somewhat. 

This did not stop her from feeling lonely. There was a point during their first lesson with Snape that she thought they might be united against a common enemy. As loathe as she was to mark a _teacher_ as an adversary, she couldn’t see that he had any good motive for his behaviour at all. She tried to save Harry from answering questions he clearly didn’t know the answer to, and yet Snape kept shooting her down. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh with the others when Harry finally said:  
  
“I think Hermione knows, why don’t you try her?” She was sure it wasn’t a dig at her, really but she felt a pang of resentment at being the butt of the joke. It felt like the first feast all over again, being pointed at while the whole House laughed.  
  
When Snape was cruel to Neville, who looked as though he might actually faint from fear (and pain, she supposed, those boils didn’t look pleasant), she felt anger bubbling up in the stomach like the Draught she was working on. When the lesson ended, she was entirely ready to rant with the boys about how awful it had been, but they’d hurried off without her before she could fit all her books back in her bag. She tried not to let this bother her. She was doing well in her lessons. Everything else was secondary.

*

The notice about flying lessons was the last thing she needed. Physical Education had never really been her thing, and she’d hoped that it would be optional here. No such luck. Not that they got very far. It seemed to be one disaster after another. Neville’s fall – no serious, she hoped – meant that she’d have no one to talk to that dinner; she had long exhausted Percy’s range of discussion topics. Harry getting dragged away by McGonagall after flying off – _which she had warned him against_ – was just the icing on the cake. She was beside herself with worry when she sat down to dinner next to Parvati Patil. She was just thinking about why on Earth Harry was so dismissive of the school rules when he entered the hall and sat down next to Ron, opposite her, _grinning_ , of all things.

“You’ll never guess what McGonagall wanted,” he said, grabbing a few potatoes from the dish between them.  
  
“I’m surprised she didn’t expel you! What are you saying, you only got one detention?” Ron was frowning at the elation on Harry’s face.  
  
“No detentions, actually-“  
  
“What?!” That was Fred butting in from a few seats down from Harry – clearly she wasn’t the only one listening in.  
  
“We’ve had detentions for looking at teachers the wrong way! You’re telling me you got away scot free?” Fred waved a drumstick at Harry indignantly.  
  
“Better,” said Harry, positively beaming, “She wants me to play seeker on the Quidditch team!” There was a moment of stunned silence.  
  
“You’re _joking._ ” Hermione had spoken out loud without thinking, at the same time at Ron. All four boys looked up at her, Ron looking extremely offended.  
“They don’t let first years play,” she said quietly, still staring at Harry.  
  
“I’m the youngest in a century,” He said, and smiled, managing to look just a tiny bit pleased with himself.  
  
“We’re on the team too,” George chipped in, “Beaters.”  
  
“But-“ Hermione wasn’t happy that they’d just accepted this fact already.  
  
“I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year,” said Fred, cutting her off before she could bring it up again. “We haven’t won since Charlie left but if you were good enough to avert McGonagall’s punishment…” He raised his eyebrows, impressed. Hermione felt a stab of annoyance towards him.  
  
“Anyway, we’ve got to go – Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school” George tipped his head towards the doors.  
  
“Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week,” Fred put extra emphasis on the word _smarmy_ and looked her dead in the eye before getting up. “See you.” And they disappeared.  
  
She shouldn’t have worried about them, she thought bitterly, apparently her fellow classmates could do no wrong. She felt betrayed by Professor McGonagall – hadn’t she effectively rewarded Harry for breaking the rules? She barely had time to process these thoughts before the boys were getting themselves into yet more trouble, this time with the help of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Minutes after she had resolved to leave them to it, they tested her yet again. A duel, for God’s sake-  
  
“Excuse me.” They both turned to her.  
  
“Can’t a person eat in peace in this place?” said Ron.  
  
“I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying-“  
  
“-bet you could-“ Ron muttered.  
  
“-You mustn’t go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.” That last bit seemed to really annoy Harry.  
  
“And it’s really none of your business,” said Harry.  
  
“Goodbye,” Said Ron, and they left.

*

Hermione didn’t leave it there, of course. That night, when they tried to sneak out, she confronted them and then followed them out of the common room only to be locked out. When she found Neville was also joining them she could have cried. The first terror of the night was Mrs Norris. There was a shared, instinctual fear in all of them that united them momentarily when they heard Filch’s voice, and saw the yellow eyes of his cat staring up at them. Sprinting away, they turned down random corridors and turned as many corners as they could to lose her.

“I told you!” Hermione gasped, as they stopped outside their Charms classroom. “You do realize Malfoy tricked you, don’t you? Filch knew where you were going to be!” No one acknowledged this statement.

“We need to get back to the tower,” said Ron. Harry nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Then, just when it looked like they just might all survive this night unexpelled, who should show up but Peeves.

“Shut up, Peeves – please – you’ll get us thrown out!” Hermione felt the blood drain from her face.

“Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut tut tut,” There was something about that word, _firstie_ that cured Hermione’s blood problem almost instantly. She pursed her lips as he sang “Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty!” Harry was desperate now.

“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.” It almost looked like he might let them go, and then Ron snapped at him to get out of the way and-

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!” Hermione wished she had time to throw something at him but they were all running for their lives now.  


Ron, who had the longest legs, got to the door at the end of the corridor first, and wailed helplessly when he found it locked.  
  
“This is it!” He moaned, “We’re done for!” They could hear Filch’s footsteps moving terrifyingly quickly towards Peeves’ shouts. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focussing. Right.  
  
“This is the end!”  
  
“Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She snatched Harry’s wand from him and tapped the lock. “ _Alohamora!_ ” The door swung open and they piled in. For an entire ten seconds, after they heard the caretaker retreat, they felt safe. And then…  
  
An enormous three-headed dog. Of course. Why not? Wait, no – why? The part of her mind not busy panicking that her last living act would have been to sneak out of dorms after hours was curious. They were in the forbidden corridor, of course, that much was certain but- three heads, check. Huge, terrifying furry body, check. Claws the size of her whole arm, check and- _oh._  
  
  
She followed the boys as they fell out of the room and back into the corridor, slamming the door shut behind them. They didn’t stop running until they got to the tower and clambered into the portrait hole. Hermione was sitting in an armchair, although she didn’t remember going to sit in one, and staring into the last embers of the fire.  
“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” Ron’s voice broke into her reverie, “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.” She glared at him incredulously, remembering that it was his stupidity which had first aggravated Peeves.  
  
”You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”  
  
“The floor?” Harry suggested. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads.”  
  
“It had three in case you hadn’t noticed!” Interjected Ron.  
  
“No, _not_ the floor,” she said, ignoring Ron, “It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.” When they didn’t provide any intelligent response, she stood up.  
  
“I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could have all been killed – or worse, expelled.” Which, for her, meant banishment from the wizarding world – not that they cared. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.” And with a last glare at Ron, who didn’t fail to provide a sarcastic comment, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and please let me know how you feel below - especially in regards to going over old ground and if I'm being too boring.


	6. Over the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's personal issues come to a head.
> 
> TW: Anxiety + panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapter titles are cringily try-hard but I. Just. Can't. Stop.

Hermione had managed to give them the cold shoulder for about a whole two hours the next day before she snapped at them as they laughed about how Harry had earned his new broom.  
  
“I suppose you think that’s a reward for breaking the rules?”  
  
“I thought you weren’t speaking to us?” Said Harry.  
  
“Yes, don’t stop now,” said Ron, “It’s doing us so much good.” She huffed and marched away from them. It was ridiculous that they got away with the things they did. All it was doing was making them more reckless, and soon enough they would do something really dangerous. Not that they seemed to care.

*

From the library window that evening, she could see Harry training with Oliver Wood. From what she’d read, Quidditch was an awfully brutal sport. _Potentially lethal_ , she thought, _right up their alley_. She sighed.

“He is brilliant, isn’t he?” She started and turned to see Fred Weasley gazing out of the window. Clearly he’d misinterpreted her sigh as one of admiration.

“Yes, marvellous,” she snapped, turning away from the window, “I suppose he _would_ enjoy it more than the detention he should have got.” He didn’t respond, still watching his new teammate training.

“Why don’t you go out there, if you love watching him fly about so much?”

“Hmm?” He looked over like he’d forgotten she was there, “oh, team practice is tomorrow – this is just to get him clued up on the rules. He was living with muggles so he knows basically nothing.”

Hermione felt that familiar feeling of annoyance return to her. So that was why he was having so much fun watching.

“Think that’s funny do you?” She hissed, “Stupid muggle-raised kids not knowing anything about the magical world?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No, actually,” he said calmly, “it just makes it more impressive that he’s doing so well.”

He was gone before she remembered to close her mouth.

*

Before anyone knew it, Hallowe’en was approaching. Hermione tried not to think too hard about how she had been at Hogwarts for two months without making a single true friend. She threw herself into her schoolwork – even more than she had been, if that was possible – getting increasingly motivated as the material became progressively more complex. On the day itself, she was eager to be learning to levitate objects but considerably less so to have been paired up with Ron to practice. She had been better at not speaking to them since the day Harry had gotten him broomstick and was irritated to be forced to break her vow of silence for the only thing that was more important – her schoolwork. Given that Ron didn’t seem to care if she saw how irritated he was at being partnered with her, she didn’t bother disguising her impatience with his shoddy wandwork.

“You do it then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled.  
  
Hermione pressed her lips together and rolled up her sleeves.  
  
“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” The feather lifted into the air and hovered above them. This did not improve Ron’s mood. 

At the end of class, Professor Flitwick approached her to congratulate her again on her performance and to quietly assure her that he had never seen a student pick it up as quickly as she had. She smiled and thanked him. This was the most impressive thing she’d done by far – she wondered if Harry or Neville would join the professor in expressing their surprise and admiration. Probably not, but the lesson had put her in a good mood. Maybe it was time to make it up with the boys – after all, they were the closest thing she had to friends here.  
  
She could see them in the corridor in front of her but it was too crowded to get to them-  
  
“…It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” Ron’s voice was carrying over the crowd, “She’s a nightmare, honestly.” She saw all three heads nod, agreeing among themselves, and felt her stomach lurch. Oh no, she thought, here we go again- 

She pushed her way past them, knocking into Harry’s shoulder as she ran. _Have to get to a bathroom, have to-_ Her legs managed to carry her there somehow, and she was promptly sick in a toilet, tears streaming from her eyes. She rinsed her mouth out and splashed her face with cold water but she couldn’t stop crying. Retreating back into a stall, she locked the door and sat down on the closed toilet seat, shaking. _Breathe, breathe, breathe_ , she reminded herself. _Have to keep breathing, cannot let it stop me breathing._  
  
The problem with panic attacks was that after a while they all seemed to meld together, like her whole life had just been one big one. She was in her primary school toilets and lost in a supermarket aisle and leant over her bathroom sink at home with the Hogwarts letter clutched in her fist – all at once. She would never belong here, never belong anywhere, never meet a single person who could put up with her-

“Hello? Hermione? Is that you?” Parvati, great – just what she needed. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I just want to be left alone!” She managed to call out. “I’ll be fine!” Not that Parvati cared. She was probably only interested so she could spread some gossip about her at the feast – pathetic muggle-born know-it-all Hermione was crying in the toilets because she can’t make any friends-  
  
“Oh- okay… if you’re sure?” She said it like a question but Hermione didn’t answer. Parvati left, and she was alone once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it this far, i.e. putting up with my forays into retelling The Philosopher's Stone. Then again, if you enjoyed JK's version, why /not/ read it again, hmm? *frantically self justifies*


	7. Taking One for the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troll! In the Dungeons! I just thought you should know... *faints*

She didn’t know how long it had been. Hours, probably. The light had come in slowly dimmer from the large stained glass window outside (Hermione could see it casting shapes onto the floor from under the door) and her sobs had slowly receded into gasped breaths and then a sort of numbness. It had finally happened. After two months of putting it off, pretending like everything was okay and that she still had a hope of making friends, she had accepted that she was not welcome in this new and strange world. She was even more alone here as she had been in her muggle school and no matter how good she was in classes, that wasn’t going to change. There was nobody on her side.

Was that the smell of feet?

This last thought was so different from all the rest that it pulled Hermione back out of her head again. The numbness began to dissipate. She was sitting in a toilet stall alone on Hallowe’en night, despite the fact that she had been ridiculously excited to see a real wizarding Hallowe’en not five hours ago. How depressing. No. If she was going to have something positive to write about this evening to her parents in her letter tomorrow, she was going to have to go out and find it for herself. Enough of crying in bathrooms. Enough of the smell of feet. She must have not noticed it in the midst of her weeping. But- no, actually. It was getting stronger. She picked her bag up off the floor and slung it over her shoulder before exiting the stall. Checking that she looked presentable in the mirror first, she made to leave. And then-

“Oh, my-” It was so immense that for a moment she had no idea what she was looking at. For one wild second she thought she was seeing a twelve-foot-high hallucination but… no. That… that was definitely a-  
  
“Troll,” she whispered out loud. How on Earth had it got here? The massive boulder-like eyes turned blearily in her direction and she squealed. It had heard her. All she had to do was to get past it and run – it was too slow to catch her over a long distance. With a quick reminder to herself that she was, in fact, a Gryffindor, she launched herself across the chamber, under one of the troll’s thick hairy arms and towards the door. But before she could reach it, she heard the ominous mechanical _click_ of a lock being turned and muffled voices retreating from the door. She pulled the handle. She had been locked in. Was somebody trying to kill her?! Bricks fell from above, narrowly missing her, and she screamed. The troll had turned around to face her, its monstrous elbow knocking a chunk off the wall as he did. 

_Think!_ She told herself, _the safest place to be is… under the sink_. Maybe he would just wander about for a bit and then leave. The unlikelihood of that outcome made her dizzy as she forced herself to dive around the enormous creature again. _This is how I die,_ she thought, as the vision darkened, _with no one here to miss me_.  
  
“Hermione!” _Imagine dying at twelve years old. What an immense failure._  
  
“Confuse it!” She heard the soft thunk of metal on flesh and saw the troll stop in its tracks, baffled. It turned slightly towards the source of its befuddlement and saw-  
_Harry?_ The troll started lumbering towards him, lifting its club.  
  
“Oy, pea-brain!” That was Ron, sounding slightly hysterical and not a little bit frightened, and yet – he’d thrown a metal pipe at the creature, drawing its wrath towards him.  
She stared at him in awe.

“Come on, run, _run!_ ” She could feel a vague tugging sensation on her sleeve but for the life of her she could not bring herself to acknowledge it. The thing was going after Ron, now. The tugging stopped, and she watched as Harry launched himself at the troll, arms locking around its neck and wand – _ugh!_ – going straight up one if its nostrils. She sank to floor, trembling. She really must be hallucinating. Except.  
  
Ron had pulled out his wand and was staring from the troll to her with a look of pure desperation in his face. Something in that was so real that she almost felt normal again. Almost. She half raised a hand and moved it automatically. _Swish and flick_. A moment later, his jaw had clenched as pointed his wand at the troll’s club and, with near-perfect pronunciation, said: “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”  
  
Hermione blinked and the troll fell to the floor with an unholy crash. None of them moved.

“Is it – dead?” She heard herself ask.  
  
“I don’t think so,” said Harry, “Just knocked out.” He pulled his wand from the creature’s nose. “Ugh – troll bogies.” She watched as he wiped it on the thing’s trousers, grimacing. For a second they share a look – all three of them – half smiles almost forming on their faces-

And then then the teachers burst in. McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell, all furious, and ready to ruin all three of them. Well, if they had been brave enough to take on a troll to save her, she could do something for them. Even if it did mean expulsion.  
  
“Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me.” Her role model’s furious gaze narrowed on her and she almost faltered. But what had McGonagall said on their first night here? _Your house will be like your family._ What was the use of remaining in the wizarding world if she couldn’t be family to these stupidly brave people? If anyone deserved to be banished from the wizarding world tonight, it was her, not them. Hermione finally managed to stand up.

“I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I’ve read all about them.” Ron dropped his wand but she didn’t look away from the Professor’s incredulous gaze, willing her not to turn and see the boys’ expressions, which would surely give her away. “If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now.” Well, that part was true enough. “Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.” From the corner of her eye she could see them trying to rearrange their expressions to calm acceptance. McGonagall’s eyes widened and then narrowed back into a glare.

“Well – in that case… Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?” As noble as she was trying to be, that one was difficult to take. She hung her head so as not to have to continue seeing the disappointment in McGonagall’s face. “Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this.” _Five points? Five measly points?_ Her head snapped up to gape at the Professor disbelievingly. “I’m very disappointed in you.” There was something pronounced about her voice, artificial. “If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor Tower.” Was that- had the corner of her mouth just twitched? “Students are finishing the feast in their houses.”  
  
For a second, Hermione hesitated, and then – when McGonagall raised her eyebrows pointedly, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope I'm not boring you by going over familiar plot points but I thought this was a really important turning point for Hermione and... idk. Let me know if there's things I can improve on below, please.


	8. You're Gonna Need Someone on Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical. You wait eight weeks for someone to treat you like a friend and then four come along at once.

She spent the whole walk up to the Tower in a confused daze – had McGonagall known she was lying? Why had her punishment been so lenient? She had not puzzled out an answer by the time she reached The Fat Lady, nor was she given much chance to analyse it further.

The majority of the house was in the Common Room, finishing up the Hallowe’en Feast. When she entered the room, almost everyone looked up to see who was late. However, even with a troll on the loose, the arrival of Hermione Granger was not anything anyone was interested in. Having missed lunch, however, she was very much interested in the remains of the feast. Once she’d filled up her plate and sat down, she became aware that perhaps she wasn’t so wholly dismissed by the room as she thought. In one shady corner, Fred and George Weasley were muttering to each other, glancing up at her at regular intervals. Hermione was just beginning to feel uncomfortable when they rose abruptly and made their way over to her.

“Evenin’, Granger,” Said Fred, sitting down on her right.  
  
“Cosy old feast isn’t it, in the Common Room?” George added conversationally. But before she could respond-  
  
“Except you haven’t been in the Common Room, have you?” Well, that casual façade hadn’t lasted very long. Fred was looking at her pointedly.  
  
“No, I haven’t.” There was no point lying about it to them, she supposed.  
  
“And we saw ickle Ronnikins and Wonderboy dashing in the wrong direction earlier too,” Said George, “I don’t suppose you know where they are spending the evening?”

Hermione paused. She didn’t know them well enough to understand their motives. They didn’t seem particularly worried about Harry and Ron, but she supposed that could be it. But there was still some hostility towards her in their attitude that she was wary of. After what she’d just done, the idea that they might be thinking she’d gotten them into some sort of trouble made her bristle.

“Yes, actually, I do. They were just in the girls’ bathrooms fighting a troll,” in the silence that followed, she remembered what she’d heard Ron saying on the night of their sorting, “there, Fred, you told him it would happen, it was just a couple of months late.” She expected them to be incredulous, or at the very least cynical about her claim but, aside from an initial moment of shock, they seemed to accept it immediately.

“And they survived?!” asked George.  
  
“Quite well, yes,” said Hermione, taking another bite of pumpkin pie, “with a little help from me, of course.” Modesty was a virtue best employed on a sparse basis.  
  
“You?” said Fred, but without the scoff she was expecting. His eyes narrowed. “Let me guess, now you’ve dropped them in it and come back here to bask in your untarnished goody-two-shoes reputation?” Lord, but this boy did have a knack for getting under her skin.  
  
“No, actually! I'm the one who was in trouble! I expect they’re taking so long because Professor McGongall is engraving a trophy for them.” She added the last bit with only half the bitterness she might have felt a day ago. She felt as though something integral to her worldview up until this point was changing. After all, hadn’t McGongall been lenient with her because she had lied? Perhaps following the rules to the letter wasn’t always the right thing to do.

“So...” George was frowning incredulously, “the three of you brought down a troll, and you took the heat?”  
  
“And you still managed to get back here before dinner was over – without being expelled?” Hermione met Fred’s eyes curiously. There was something there she’d never seen before. She nodded, and his face broke into a grin.  
  
“Merlin, I wouldn’t mind having you on our side in a fight,” he said, “if that _was_ how they sorted first-years… talk about proving you’re a Gryffindor.” She stared at him.  
  
_Respect._ That was what she had seen in his eyes. He had called her a true Gryffindor and was looking at her with respect – the first person to say anything like that since she had arrived here – because… because…? Because of one evening of stupidity. She had been working her socks off for _eight weeks_ to prove that she belonged here and this boy, this rule-breaking, trouble-making boy, was acting like- like-

“Oh, thank you very much,” she snapped, standing up, “I’m glad I’ve finally got your approval. Of course I’ve been positively distraught that you didn’t like me!” They stared up at her with identically baffled expressions. “Up until tonight no one in this school cared if I lived or died, and now suddenly you think you can welcome me into the fold?” She felt blood rushing to her face again, “Well, let me tell you – I have always been a Gryffindor – it’s _you_ that had the problem if you couldn’t see it, not me! So excuse me if I don’t whoop for joy that you’ve finally figured out that I am not actually a social leper!”

She was breathing heavily as she finished, fists clenched at her sides and – she was mortified to feel – tears forming in her eyes. She suddenly became conscious of a hush that had fallen over the room. The twins were still gaping at her, and the heat from her anger was turning slowly into a claustrophobic embarrassment at having made such a scene. She might have left for the dorms had she not wanted to wait for Harry and Ron.

And in her moment of hesitation, her two victims did something she would never, in a million years, have expected.

They… _laughed_. Full, whole-hearted laughs that she could not sense one ounce of spite in. Stunned, she stared at them as they stood up.  
“Alright, everyone back to your dinners, show’s over,” said George gesturing to those still staring at Hermione to continue with their meals. Despite herself, she felt a touch of gratitude at their diverting of everyone’s attention.  
  
“All out of your system now, Granger?” Fred was looking at her with one eyebrow raised again, that look that had irritated her on so many occasions. She was just about to snap something back when she realised that - actually - _yes_.  
  
“Much better, thank you,” she felt a small smile growing on her face and received acknowledging nods from both of them.  
  
“Good.” Fred patted her on the head as they walked back to their corner and, inexplicably, it didn’t annoy Hermione one bit.

*

Amazingly, shouting at Fred and George really _had_ made her feel much better. The whole time she'd been at Hogwarts, she’d been holding in her feelings of inadequacy and her resentment at feeling unwelcome. When she had finally heard someone say those words to her – _I wouldn't mind having you on our side... you're a Gryffindor_ – she was filled with such an array of conflicting emotions – joy at finally being accepted, anger that it hadn’t come earlier, the desire to pretend she had never even wanted it in the first place – that all those thoughts that had been eating away at her had exploded out of her at the nearest targets: The Weasley twins. And bless them, they seemed to know instinctively what was going on – and how to help her.

She was still wondering how they had known what she needed better than she had, and why they had decided to take it upon themselves to give it to her, when Harry and Ron arrived. They smiled awkwardly at each other and then, without any of them saying a word, they realised they were friends. As they parted for the night, Hermione thought that maybe she had more people on her side today than she had had the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, an actual original scene written with my own two hands? Amazing, I KNOW.


	9. The Side of the Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds out what having friends means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor break there for both Eid and an issue I had writing an event three chapters down the line (i.e. the gap I'm keeping between my writing and your reading) Hope this makes up for it - ^.^

Hermione discovered that having friends suited her. Suddenly everything felt easier – if she made a mistake or did something weird, she could laugh about it with Harry and Ron. They no longer rolled their eyes at her enthusiasm for schoolwork, instead blatantly using flattery to get her to help them with theirs. Of course, she’d never do it for them¬ – her newfound respect for the grey area around following the rules didn’t extend that far – but she was happy to explain things.

“Her-mi-own-neee?” Said Ron, said as they left transfiguration.  
  
“Yes, Ro-oh-nald?” He ignored her impersonation as he asked:  
  
“Can we go over the points for the essay?”  
  
“Yeah, it really helped when we planned them out for Potions.” Harry added. She tried not to seem too pleased.  
  
“Sure – we can do it tonight, before dinner.”  
  
“Tonight?” For someone who had just got a request granted, Ron didn’t seem too happy, “it’s not due until next week, I thought we might leave it till-“  
  
“The night before it’s due?” She raised her eyebrows at him pointedly, remembering the mild panic of their last assignment, which he had completed mere minutes before the lesson.  
  
“-the weekend!” She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
“ _Tomorrow._ ”  
  
“Done.” They laughed.

“Doing homework for other people now, are you, swot? Your own not enough for you?” It was the unmistakable sneer of Draco Malfoy, who had walked up from behind them.  
  
“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron scowled.  
  
“Why? Do you own the service? It’s not like you could pay her more than I could,” He laughed as Ron’s face turned scarlet with anger.  
  
“As if she’d ever want to help you!” Harry spat, and Malfoy wrinkled his nose as though there was something awful-smelling under it.  
  
“Yes, well that’s the difference between us, isn’t it Potter? I don’t need the help of muggle-borns to do well.” 

As much as Hermione was enjoying being defended by her new friends, she couldn’t help but feel a little side-lined from everyone talking about her in the third person.  
  
“Funny, I thought I heard Professor McGonagall telling you _your_ homework hasn’t been up to scratch,” She said, politely, “it’s really a shame that the only friends you can hold on to have the intelligence of Neville’s toad.” She nodded at Crabbe and Goyle, who were of course, lurking at his elbows.  
  
“Bit harsh on Trevor, that,” said Harry, looking sideways at her.  
  
“Well,” She acceded, “I was trying not to hurt their feelings.” They left Malfoy spluttering with a baffled Crabbe and Goyle, and turned onto the staircase, bursting into laughter as they went.

 

“Hermione, that was brilliant!” gasped Ron.  
“ _Soo_ satisfying,” Harry agreed. Hermione beamed at them. She could see why Malfoy never went anywhere alone, there was just something so empowering about having back-up.  
  
“But, if you are doing mates rates on doing homework for people then-“ She promptly swatted Ron over the head with the book she was carrying.  
  
“Woah there, Granger!” It was Fred and George, exiting from a door on their right.  
  
“That is completely unacceptable,” the latter admonished, seizing the book from her hands – she reached to get it back instinctively, and he threw it to his brother, who caught it neatly.  
  
“Entirely wrong!” He agreed, brandishing it at her reproachfully, “ _this_ is how you do it.” And he brought the spine of the book down forcefully on the crown of Ron’s head.  
  
“Fred!” He rubbed the top of his head in pain while Harry tried not to laugh. Hermione frowned.  
  
“Did you just come out of a broom closet?” She asked. The twins exchanged a look.  
  
“We’re beginning to think you’re just a little too clever for your own good, Granger,” said Fred, shaking his head.  
  
“If you’re up to something-“  
  
“What? You’ll tell on us?” George was equally good at eyebrow raising as his brother, it turned out. She faltered.  
  
“I never said that-“  
  
“You're right, you never did.” Fred cut her off.  
  
“And do you know _why_ you didn’t?” She opened her mouth to answer George but they didn’t seem particularly interested in hearing her take on the matter.  
  
“Because you are now a friend of the family,” provided Fred helpfully, gesturing to his little brother.  
  
“And according to Weasley rules-” said George,  
  
“-that means you basically _are_ family-”  
  
“-as are you, Harry-”  
  
“-so we’re really all on the same side-”  
  
“-with a responsibility to protect each other-”  
  
“-and that means you can’t grass us up –”  
  
“-So no matter what you hear-”  
  
“-and no matter what you see-”  
  
“-We're safe!” They finished together, smug grins on their faces. Hermione choked on her own incredulity. Really, they were absolutely relentless – how was anyone ever supposed to get a word in edgeways to argue with them? Taking advantage of their dupes’ choking confusion they added:  
  
“So you agree!”  
  
“Glad we’re all on the same page.” With one last wink from Fred, they were both gone. There was another moment of silence.  
  
“ _Weasley rules_?” Said Harry, turning to Ron, and at the hopeless look on the latter’s face, they all burst out laughing once again.

*

As they continued with their day, Hermione went over the speech in her mind. Since ranting at them on Hallowe’en, she hadn’t been sure how to behave towards either of the Weasley twins. Of course, she didn’t see them that often, given they were two years above her and often up to no good in some secret corner of the castle, no doubt, but they couldn’t be avoided either. They did still spend some evenings in the common room, and of course there were mealtimes – being Ron’s brothers and Harry’s teammates it was not unknown for them to drop in for the occasional conversation.

She didn’t necessarily _want_ to avoid them either. She just hadn’t been able to figure out where she stood with them. They didn’t seem to resent her for her outburst – but of course they appeared to have understood it better than her anyway. That didn’t mean they were friends or anything, though. Her two best friends had very clear and solid reasons to talk to them while she… she was just a kid they’d laughed at a couple of times. Or so she’d thought. _Family_ they’d said. Obviously they’d been playing it up to make their point – she wasn’t so stupid as to miss that – but it didn’t sound like a _total_ send up either. They’d grouped her with Harry, about whom she had heard them say their mother wouldn’t mind adopting him. Actually, it was probably more accurate to say they’d grouped _Harry_ in with _her_. Despite George’s interjection _“as are you Harry,”_ there was no doubt that they’d been directing the speech primarily at her.

Mostly, she knew, because they knew it would annoy her to be told she’d have to take their misbehaviours lying down but- maybe they’d had other motives too? There had been something in the way they had been looking at her – Fred especially – those sure and steady eyes that hadn’t given her one second to argue with them. Hadn’t they once already figured out what she needed before she had, and provided it, free of charge? Was it possible that they were doing it again? _But why?_ came the logical part of her mind (most of it), _why would they care to reassure me?_ The idea that Hogwarts’ resident troublemakers wanted to make their little brother’s nerdy friend feel more accepted purely out of the goodness of their hearts was hard to swallow, but she couldn’t for the life of her come up with a better explanation.

It was likely, she reasoned, that she would never fully understand how they thought. It wasn’t surprising, really, given how entirely different they were. But- _there I go again, assuming I know what they’re about,_ the very crime they had punished her for on the evening of the first feast. It would take time to kill old habits, she realised, but she had learnt from the past couple of weeks that she was more capable of change than she had thought. Maybe she could train herself to withhold judgement, to imagine people more complexly. After all, didn’t you owe that to family?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. GO TEAM!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go go, Gryffindor! Go go, Gryffindor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two today to make up for yesterday ^.^

It seemed that, along with Harry and Ron, Hermione had gained the – if not friendship – friendly acquaintanceship of a few other people. The twins, of course, had declared to her that she was not just a friend of Ron’s but a friend of the family – and therefore practically family herself. Although this sounded like a bit of an exaggeration to Hermione, she now found it much easier to be around them. She had gone from avoiding their eyes in the corridors to nodding and smiling, and they sometimes even asked each other how things were going. All in all, much more pleasant. Her dorm mates too, appeared to have had a change of heart since Hallowe’en. Hermione blushed to think of the mean thoughts she’d had toward Parvati when she’d happened upon her in the girls’ bathroom – it turned out that she _had_ actually been concerned about her. She and Lavender always made sure to wave at her when she entered a room now, and Parvati had even offered to lend her a butterfly clip for her hair. These were small things, but Hermione had never really had many girlfriends, and it meant a lot to her that she no longer felt like a total outsider in her own dorms.

In a strange turn of events, Quidditch was becoming a point of common ground for Hermione too. She had leant Harry her copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and he’d seemed to enjoy reading it much more than she had. Not only that, but as Harry’s first game loomed nearer, Ron had gathered her together with the boys’ dorm mates Seamus and Dean, along with Neville, to make a banner for them to hold. Ron had come up with the slogan _‘Potter for President’_ which Neville had printed, with a surprisingly steady hand, onto an old bedsheet, while Seamus and Dean worked together to draw a Gryffindor lion underneath. With a little bit of tricky magic, Hermione added a charm that made the paint flash different colours. They all cheered.

“That’s a nifty bit o’ magic, that, Hermione,” said Seamus, looking impressed.  
  
“Yeah, that’s wicked – there’s no way he could miss it now.” Added Dean, grinning. She beamed back.  
  
“Quality stuff, Granger.” Fred and George had appeared from seemingly nowhere to admire their handiwork.  
  
“Thank you very much indeed,” She smiled.  
  
“Would that work on Angelina?” Lee Jordan, to whom she had never spoken, had arrived with the twins.  
  
“Angelina?” wondering why he would want to make the Gryffindor’s star Chaser flash different colours.  
  
“My tarantula,” explained Lee, grinning, “I named it after Angelina Johnson as a show of my undying love but she didn’t seem too impressed.”  
  
“I wonder why,” she deadpanned, “I’m afraid it only works on paint.”  
  
“Ah, well,” said Lee, “better luck next time, I guess.”  
  
“You’ll need more than luck to get Angelina Johnson to go out with you, Lee.” said George, elbowing his friend.  
  
“Our friend is rather romantically challenged,” said Fred in a stage whisper, “it’s actually a medical condition called _stupidus affectus_.” Everyone laughed.  
  
“You speak Latin?” Hermione had read a few things about the language and his ‘medical condition’ didn’t sound too far off from an actual translatable phrase.  
  
“It is the language of love, is it not?” Said Fred, waggling his eyebrows at her.  
  
“That’s French,” she said, laughing.  
  
“And we don’t speak either,” said George, “it just comes up a lot in potions so we looked up some insults in it.”  
  
“To throw at Snape, you understand,” added Fred.  
  
“Anyway,” said George, “we’d best be off.”  
  
“See you at the game, _ma chérie_.” Fred was developing an awful habit of winking at her as he ended conversations and Hermione wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. They waved and were gone.

*

Being friends with Harry and Ron didn’t mean never disagreeing with them, as Ron was reaffirming when they made their way down to the Quidditch pitch on match day.

“Buy Harry heard him say that he went looking for the three headed dog!”

“I'm not denying that! But there could be a million reasons why he went there-“

“Like what? He wanted to have a tea party with the thing?” She sighed.

“Maybe he was sent to check on it. In case the troll-“

“You’re not stupid enough to think the troll was a coincidence, Hermione – you said it yourself earlier, it was almost definitely a diversion.”

“I was just thinking out loud then. That doesn’t mean that Snape is after-“

“You just don’t believe teachers can do anything wrong,” said Ron, dismissively, as they reached their seats.

“That’s not true.” But Hermione couldn’t quite muster the conviction she had been aiming for, and they left the argument there, as Lee Jordan’s voice began announcing the teams.

While she doubted she would ever feel the same devoted passion to the game as Ron and Harry, Hermione couldn’t deny that it was easy to get caught up in the game. She laughed along with the others at Lee’s commentating:  
  
“…Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –“  
  
“JORDAN!”  
  
“Sorry, Professor.”  
  
She caught one of the twins bending over slightly on his broom as though from laughter, although Angelina appeared not to care as she worked with Alicia Spinnet – another third year – to get the Quaffle back to the Slytherin end. It seemed that what the boys had been saying about this year’s team was right, it really did seem very good – even to Hermione, with her limited experience. Oliver Wood was never anything but vigilant, defending Gryffindor’s goalposts valiantly. The trio of girls that made up the Chasers worked so well together that it seemed almost as though they were thinking with one mind. Fred and George, clubs in hand, were more powerful than she would have thought without seeing them play herself, and not without strategy, sending Bludgers hurtling into the paths of potentially problematic Slytherins and protecting their own players.

Of course, most of Hermione’s attention was on Harry. He had told them beforehand that he agreed with Wood to circle above the action until he spotted the snitch, to avoid getting caught up in any nastiness. Still, she had her binoculars trained on him so often that she almost missed Angelina putting up the first ten points for Gryffindor. As they cheered, Hagrid arrived, and they moved up to let him sit.  
  
“No sign of the snitch yet, eh?” He too, had seemed to come as a package deal with Harry and Ron, and since they had become friends, was entirely as kind and conversational with her as he was to the other two.  
  
“Nope,” said Ron, “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”  
  
“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s something’,” said Hagrid. Hermione was about to agree when things started happening which called the statement into question. Harry was almost hit by a Bludger before Fred arrived to beat it furiously towards the Slytherin captain, and then-  
  
“Slytherin in possession. Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the snitch?” Hermione stood up and found that most of the crowd had done the same, murmuring amongst themselves and scanning the pitch.

Harry saw it before any of them did, diving for it only to be cut off by Marcus Flint, who almost knocked him off his broom. Hermione joined in with the roar of rage that echoed around the Gryffindor stand.  
  
“Send him off, ref! Red card!” it was Dean Thomas, waving his fist madly at Madam Hooch.  
  
“This isn’t football Dean,” Ron reminded him.  
  
“You’re muggle-born?” Hermione blurted, turning towards him. His anger at Flint dropped from his face as he looked at her in surprise.  
  
“Yeah, why?” She shook her head, mildly embarrassed.  
  
“It’s nothing – just – I’ve not had a chance to talk to anyone else who came here from the Muggle world.” He nodded at her understandingly.  
  
“It’s was all a bit overwhelming, wasn’t it?” She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.  
  
“ _Tell me about it!_ ” He grinned and looked like he was about to reply when –  
  
“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid was frowning at the pitch through his binoculars and Hermione looked to see what he meant. He did seem to flying very oddly, his broom jerking wildly in all different directions. She glanced at Ron to see if this was some strange technique for misdirecting the opposition or something, but he looked equally as confused. Suddenly, the Nimbus began rolling in the air, and even from this distance, Hermione – and everyone watching – realised that Harry no longer had control of it. She gasped as he was thrown off, dangling from it by one desperately clinging hand.  
  
“Can’t nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic – “ Hermione seized Hagrid’s binoculars from him and scanned the crowd. _Come on, come on… I know you’re there… Ha!_  
  
“What are you doing?” moaned Ron, his face ashen.  
  
“I knew it,” she gasped, “Snape – look.” She didn’t wait for him to catch on, pushing past Hagrid to get to the stairs. “He’s doing something – jinxing the broom.”  
  
“What should we do?” Ron had lowered the binoculars and was looking at her desperately.  
  
“Leave it to me.”

Hermione ran down as fast as she could, tucking the long sides of her robe up to let her legs move more freely. She glanced up, terrified she would be too late. Harry was still clinging on, barely. Fred and George had flown over to him and were trying to help him onto the safety of one of their brooms. She let out a yelp of horror as the Nimbus bucked at them, almost knocking Fred off his broom as well as putting Harry’s grip in danger. _Focus on what you have to do_ , she scolded herself, turning her attention back to her target. She was following Lee Jordan’s voice, knowing that he was sitting with Professor McGonagall in the teacher’s box- _there!_  
  
She raced through the row behind Snape, knocking Professor Quirrell over as she went but not bothering to stop and apologize. Kneeling over the trails of Snape’s cloak, she muttered a spell and blue flames shot from her hand, catching the black material. She looked back up through the slats at Harry – still holding on, thank God – and the two scarlet clothed figures that were Fred and George, circling beneath him, clearly hoping to catch him if he did fall. But-

Finally, Snape realised he was on fire. With a cry of surprise, he stood up, and Hermione knew her job was done. She extinguished the fire quickly and bolted from the stands, glancing up just in time to see Harry climbing back up onto his broom, safe again. With a sigh of relief, she cheered with the rest of the crowd, heading back to the Gryffindor stands.

Before she could get there, however, the match was already over – Harry almost swallowed the Snitch not thirty seconds after remounting his broom, and, seeing as she was already on the ground… She ran for the middle of the pitch, flinging her arms around Harry as he touched down, laughing wildly and waving the Snitch in his fist like a trophy. She felt two warm bodies slam hard into her from both sides and heard Fred and George’s whooping join Harry’s as they embraced him, apparently not caring if Hermione was caught in the middle too. The rest of the side reached the ground soon after and before she knew it, Hermione was in the middle of a team celebration, feeling just as much a part of it as the boy she had just saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - I know this was another chapter that goes over old ground but hopefully with new tools enough to grow something different? Wow, that metaphor got away from me.


	11. Stick to Your Side of the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first years' extra-curricular activities create divisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dialogue heavy chapter.

The events of the Quidditch match had several consequences for Hermione. First and foremost, she was finally persuaded that Snape was up to no good. While everything up until that point could have had another explanation, she had definitely seen him trying to curse Harry with her own eyes – and there was no way she could dismiss that. Secondly, the information Hagrid had let slip in their post-match discussion in his hut meant that she Harry and Ron were spending every free moment they had in the library, trying to find out information on one Nicolas Flamel.

The most unexpected result of the game’s events, however, was that Hermione had turned into a House hero. People had seen her running to the pitch when Harry had lost control of his broom and, without being able to give anybody the details, Ron had told Seamus, Dean and Neville that she had figured out a way to fix his broom. The story had circulated, and Hermione was now being hailed as the saviour of Gryffindor’s Cup chances, along with Harry. 

She wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, the fact that she had gone from being almost universally hated to being almost universally popular was remarkable, and she was grateful that she no longer felt the need to prove herself a valuable asset to the House. At the same time, it was a little disconcerting. She had never been one to enjoy a lot of attention outside the classroom, and the fact that total strangers were clapping her on the back in the common room didn’t make her feel particularly comfortable. Nor was it making her research any easier.

She had already been interrupted twice that afternoon, when a voice came from behind the sofa she was sitting on in the library.

“Alright, Granger?”  
  
“For the last time, _please_ leave me- oh. Hullo Fred.” He vaulted over the back of the sofa (very unnecessarily) and landed next to her.  
  
“Well, if you really want me to go, maybe it should be ‘goodbye’” He said, giving her an admonishing look.  
  
“No, its fine – I just thought you were someone else coming up to congratulate me.” For some reason she didn’t mind an interruption if it was Fred’s.  
  
“Ah. Well, I could if you want,” and before she could stop him he had seized one of her hands and was shaking it furiously in both of his, “good show, madam, jolly good show!” He said in a horrifically posh accent.  
  
“You’re going to summon Madame Prince,” Hermione scolded, but as she was laughing he took almost no notice.  
  
“Maybe she’ll want to shake your hand too.”  
  
“Mmm, I feel like she’d have already done it by now if that was the case – I _am_ here quite a lot.” She said, raising an eyebrow at him. Then she was struck by a thought. “What about you?”  
  
“What, you want me to shake it again-?” He tightened his grip on her hand once again.  
  
“No! No,” She said, only just realising her hand was still in his, she pulled it away and into her lap. “I meant – that’s twice I’ve met you in the library, now. I thought you two prided yourself on not working. Why are you here so often?” He gave her an indiscernible look.  
  
“Well _‘us two’_ aren’t here so often,” He said carefully, and for the first time, Hermione realised that he was alone. This was the only place she had ever seen one of the twins without the other excepting her first encounter with Fred on the Hogwarts Express. Before she had time to ask where George was, he added, “and besides, we’re here to talk about you, not me.”

“We are?” She stared at him blankly.  
  
“Well it’s like you said, you’ve been here a lot, Granger – even more than usual.” He was speaking slowly, significantly, but his meaning was lost on her.  
  
“So?” He sighed.  
  
“So what are you up to, firstie?” His light tone did nothing to quell the twitch of irritation at his use of that name, “and why are Harry and Ron suddenly into it to?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“I’m just doing schoolwork, and I’ve persuaded the boys to-”  
  
“It’s almost Christmas, Granger, not even you could find that much work to do now – and we both know you haven’t persuaded _‘the boys’_ to do anything of the sort.” His face was arranged into that familiar raised eyebrow expression; he’d called her bluff and they both knew it.  
  
“Why do you care what we’re doing?” She asked, trying a different tact.  
  
“Why do I care what my kid brother and his friends are doing reading up on the latest developments in the dark arts?” He asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice now as he nodded towards the book in her lap, which she had automatically closed when he’d sat down, “why don’t you write to my mother and ask _her_?” Hermione looked away from his face, trying ignore the sudden wave of guilt that had passed through her at his words.  
  
“I’d hardly call it the latest developments, Fred, this book was written in-”  
  
“Stop trying to change the subject, Granger!”  
  
“I’m simply responding to your concerns-“  
  
“You don’t seem to give a shit about my concerns-“  
  
“That’s not fair, Fred, I-“  
  
“Oh, but it’s fair that you’re hiding something potentially dangerous from-“  
  
“ _I CAN’T TELL YOU, OKAY?!_ ”  
  
“ _Shhh!_ ” Madam Prince had emerged from the thin air to point a long nail at them, glaring.

_“Sorry!”_ whispered Hermione, as the librarian continued walking down the aisles, and then she turned to Fred. “Sorry.” She said again, sincerely.  
  
She, Harry and Ron had already agreed that they should keep this as quiet as possible. If Snape found out what they were up to… the consequences could be dire – and anyway, telling Hagrid hadn’t helped much.  
  
“I really can’t.” Thinking of Mrs Weasley, she added, “I promise, if it gets really dangerous we’ll tell you”  
  
Fred dismissed this compromise with a wave of his hand.  
  
“It’s not looking like a meadow of flowers at the moment, Granger, why can’t you tell me now?”  
  
Incapable of answering honestly, she pressed her lips tightly together. He saw the change in her face and made a noise of frustration, back straightening so she could feel every inch of their height difference.  
  
“What?!” He burst, still trying to control his volume, “are you scared we’re gonna tell someone? This is us, Granger – Weasley twins –“ She was about to point out, as he had, that it wasn’t the two of them here when he added: “-not goody two-shoes McGee who’s gonna run to a teacher!” He had gestured at her with the last comment and she felt it like a razor to her skin.  
  
"Well, thank you for the reassurance, Frederick.” She said shortly, picking up her book and rising to leave, “I’m glad to know where we stand. If I’m such a goody-goody, I don’t know why you would think I was involved in anything untoward in the first place.”  
  
She could tell from his face that he was already regretting his words, “And as for running to teachers-“ She choked for a second, remembering the speech he and George had given not two weeks ago, “-I thought we’d already established some ground rules. If not, here’s some new ones,” She took a step away from him, “I won’t ask what you’re up to, and you won’t ask what’s going on with us. If we can’t trust each other, it’s best if we each keep to our own side of the road.”  
  
She had already turned her back on him and was halfway to the door when she heard him say, quietly:  
  
“I thought we were on the same side.” She hesitated, and then without looking back, she replied:  
  
“Well I guess we were both wrong about that.” 

She left without giving him a chance to answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^.^


	12. A Line in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tensions be resolved before Christmas? Of course they will. You've read enough fanfiction to know this, people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I had a little trouble writing this one so I'm especially interested to know your thoughts on it - feel free to keep a critical head on and let me know how I did down below.

As Christmas drew nearer, the sting Hermione felt from her altercation with Fred was joined by the sting of icy winds. At first he’d tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. When he became one half of FredandGeorge again, it was as though he thought he couldn’t be held responsible for his own actions and words. Strangely enough, Hermione had almost fallen for it.  
  
“Alright, Granger?” They’d said together when she sat down to breakfast the next day.  
  
“Yeah, I’m-” She looked from George to Fred and then back again. “I’m fine, George, how’re you?” His smile had faltered and she saw him look sideways at his twin before answering with the usual bolster:  
  
“Very well indeed, Granger, very well indeed,” before turning away from her in a clear indication that the conversation was over.  
  
He didn’t try to speak to her again, and she ignored all attempts by Fred to catch her eye. She wouldn’t be treated as though her feelings didn’t matter. It was of no great loss to her if the twins chose to remove themselves from her acquaintance as a package deal – she’d been perfectly happy with two friends, if she lost some of the bonus ones she’d gained in the past few weeks then so be it.  
  
_Family, my left foot_ , came an unexpectedly bitter thought.

*

It was another two days before they tried to talk to her again, this time in the warm refuge of the Common Room. It seemed they weren’t as resolved as she thought on cutting themselves off from her.

“Going home for Christmas, Granger?” George asked, as he overheard her say something of the sort to Harry and Ron as they relaxed on fireside armchairs.

“France, actually – with mum and dad.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve been away so long, we wanted to do something nice together,” She explained.

“While we, poor unwanted children are left to brave the snows alone in Hogwarts,” Fred lamented.

“It is gonna be weird not being with everyone at the Burrow on Christmas,” said Ron.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like growing up with all that family,” said Hermione, half horrified, half wistful, and Harry nodded sagely.

“Well you’re more than welcome to join us some time, Granger,” said Fred, flashing his teeth at her.

  


_And according to Weasley rules-_  
  
-that means you basically are family-  
  
-so we’re really all on the same side-  
  


“No,” she said shortly, looking him in the eye for the first time since their arrival, “I don’t think I am.”  
His head twitched in an involuntary movement, a warning or a plea. _Don’t do this._  
  
“What's going on?” asked Ron, ever the tactful mediator, “have you two had a tiff?”  
  
He looked from Fred to Hermione curiously, but it was George who answered.  
  
“Freddie’s just a bit peeved that you lot won’t tell us what you’re up to,” he provided.  
  
“It sounded to me like Hermione was the peeved one,” Harry pointed out.  
  
“Yes, well...” George glanced at his twin before continuing, “the peeved-ness on Fred’s side may have resulted in some regrettable implications.” Everyone in the group looked at him, nonplussed. “He called her a snitch.”  
  
“I did not!” Fred seemed unable to continue to allow his brother to speak for him.  
  
“You might as well have,” said Hermione.  
  
“Is that all?” Ron still looked confused, “he called me a wanker when I said I wouldn’t tell him, and I’m not complaining.”  
  
“Well I apologise for not having your superior character,” she hissed and then stood up to leave.  
  
“Oh, come on, Hermione, sit down,” Again, it was George who spoke, not Fred, “do you really want to leave for the Holidays with this hanging over your head?”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something cutting in reply but found she couldn’t. For one, George had called her by her first name, which neither of the twins had done before and it affected her in some deep inexplicable way. Secondly, as loathe as she was to admit it… he was right. She didn’t want to leave Hogwarts with an unresolved fight waiting for her on her return – her tendency to overthink meant that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her holiday in the meantime. She turned back, although she didn’t sit.  
  
“I didn’t realise you asked everyone else too,” she said quietly, looking at George. He cocked his head.  
  
“Well, you _were_ our first choice, and then we tried to force information out of Ron,” he counted them off on his fingers, “and then we tried Harry, but we couldn’t really put our hearts into it - he’s just so precious and noble.” Harry’s face flushed as George pinched one of his cheeks.  
  
“ _’I can’t tell you, I made a promise and it could put everything in danger’_ ” said Fred in an unsettlingly good imitation of him.  
  
“And I suppose I was your first choice because I’m such a tattle-tale?” Hermione was still refusing to look at Fred, folding her arms across her chest.  
  
“It was more that we figured you were the brains of the operation,” supplied George, “no offense, you two.” Harry and Ron shrugged as if to agree with the logic and Hermione made a note to be pleased with herself later.

“Well-” Hermione began, but before she could get going Fred cut her off, his voice weary.  
  
“Look, I didn’t mean whatever I said, okay – if you’re not gonna tell us what’s going on can we just move on?” He didn’t appear to be enjoying this very public dissection of their argument, and Hermione suddenly had a moment of guilt at making him do this. Well. Making George make him do this. She looked into his dark brown eyes as his half-scowl gave way to resignation. “Please?” It was too much. She was embarrassed for him, feeling herself blush. _Best to end this as quickly as possible_ , she thought.  
  
“Okay.” She forced out.  
  
“Really?” said George, surprised. Harry and Ron had made equally astonished noises on either side of her but she didn’t look at anyone, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“Yeah. It’s fine. I don’t want to do this anymore.” _And neither do you, do you?_ She met Fred’s eyes one more time and he gave a miniscule nod, relieved.  
  
“Brilliant,” he said out loud, but she had left for the dorms before he could finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my first draft there was like a proper row but it didn't feel right for the characters as they are now and this particular moment so early in the game. What do you think?


	13. Bread Buttered on Both Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione leaves for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting/writing schedule was interrupted by a flying visit from the bae, so you'll have to forgive me. Hopefully I'll get two chapters up today but let's start here...

“You _will_ keep looking while I’m away, won’t you?” Said Hermione for the twentieth time that day, “And send me an owl if you find anything.” The boys both nodded resolutely – again.  
  
“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron, “It’d be safe to ask them.”  
  
“Very safe, as they’re both dentists,” Said Hermione. She had mixed feelings about the fact that Ron kept forgetting where she came from. On the one hand it felt as though he wasn’t listening to her when she spoke and sometimes it even felt like he was erasing some crucial part of who she was. On the other hand, there was something quite comforting about the fact that this detail about herself was so insignificant to him that he barely bothered remembering it, never mind judging her for it.  
  
“Okay, okay – I’m going.” She said as Ron practically shoved her towards the door, pulling the telescopic handle of her suitcase up and making sure to keep her scarf and hat balanced on it for when she got outside “have a good holiday, and remember to-”  
  
“We’ll keep looking, Hermione! Will you please bugger off and start enjoying Christmas!” Harry laughed as Hermione tried to scowl at Ron and failed.  
  
“Oh, alright. See you soon.” And she joined the queue of students making their way out of the castle.

“Oh, hello Hermione – all ready to go?” The Patil twins turned to talk to her as she arrived, indiscernible apart from the differences in the clothes they wore. Presumably the one talking to her, with the red and gold jewellery on, was Parvati.  
  
“Just about, yes – are you two going home or vacationing?”  
  
“Well we don’t really do Christmas,” supplied Padma, who wore a blue and bronze knitted scarf around her neck, “so we’re just using this time to visit family in India,”  
  
“Ooh yes, of course,” said Hermione, “I’m getting away too – to France, actually.”  
  
“You’ve not got relatives in France, do you, Granger? Veela maybe?” Fred and George interrupted their conversation, seemingly appearing from nowhere.  
  
“Fred, Veela originate in Bulgaria.” Sometimes she wondered if they got these basic facts wrong on purpose, just to annoy her.  
  
“Ah, yes, but they can be found all over Europe, can they not?” George looked a little too smug for her liking.  
  
“Yes, well –”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Granger, we all make mistakes,” said Fred bracingly, patting her on the shoulder.  
  
“We’re sure you can use your holidays to brush up your knowledge.” She spluttered as he grabbed her woolly hat from atop her suitcase and jammed it forcefully over her voluminous hair. He took a step back to inspect the effect. “Much better.”  
  
Fred moved in to take his place as if to verify his brother’s conclusion. One hand reached out and pulled the ear flaps gently, flicking a fuzzy pompom off of her nose. “Nice and toasty.” He agreed, “No freezing to death while you’re away, yeah?” She scowled at him.  
  
“Well, I’ll certainly try,” She said, her voice dripping in sarcasm, “if you’re really that worried.”  
  
He grinned back at her like the sun facing a thundercloud.  
  
“Atta girl. Have a good one, then.” They waved and left as abruptly as they had arrived.

Hermione turned to apologise for the intrusion only to find the Patil twins gaping at her.  
  
“Um. Sorry about that.” She tried. They didn’t answer. “Is everything okay?” They turned to each other and then looked back to her in sync.  
  
“Are you _friends_ with them?” Asked Parvati. Hermione frowned.  
  
“Parvati, you know I’m friends with Ron,” she said, confused, “and you know they’re his brothers, right?” Padma dismissed this with a wave of her hand.  
  
“Of course she does, Hermione. But they’re still third years.”  
  
“And they’re still the cutest boys _in_ third year,” added Parvati giggling. Hermione blanched, almost laughing herself.  
  
“Fred and George?” She scoffed. Padma looked at her like she was crazy.  
  
“Yes, Fred and George!” She said, sounding mightily offended, “you can’t possibly have missed it.”  
  
“Missed _what_?” Hermione was actually laughing now, looking behind her to see the twins approaching Lee Jordan where he sat at the table and throwing him what looked suspiciously like a dungbomb.  
  
“How about those soulful brown eyes?” Said Parvati, “or the cute freckles? Or the gorgeously muscular build? When they swing those Beater’s clubs around…” She and her sister mimed swooning together and Hermione snorted.  
  
“You really don’t see it?” asked Padma, curiously. Hermione was shaking her head even before she turned back to glance at them again, now huddled conspiratorially together.  
  
“Not really, no,” she said, “I suppose they’re alright looking – and they’re nice enough to me but-“  
  
“Nice enough?” Now it was Parvati’s turn to chuckle.  
  
“What?” Hermione was as confused as the girls had been moments ago. They shared another glance.  
  
“Hermione, that was more than nice enough,” said Padma with a raised eyebrow.  
  
She suddenly caught their insinuation.  
  
“What? No! They just like laughing at me, mostly, I think,” she admitted.  
  
“I don’t know, Hermione… George seemed awfully eager to wrap you up waa-arm,” said Parvati in a sing-song voice. Her sister rolled her eyes at her.  
  
“No way, Parvati,” She said firmly, “it’s definitely Fred that fancies her. Didn’t you see the way he was touching her cheek?” Hermione, still choking on her incredulity, managed to stop them before they began debating amongst themselves.  
  
“Woah, woah! Slow down,” she forced herself to speak, “there is no way either of those boys is even vaguely interested in me, I promise you.”  
  
“Hermione, you can’t know-“  
  
“They called me family,” she said resolutely, “they think of me as a little sister, if anything.” This seemed to end the argument, although another look she caught between them showed that they were not yet wholly convinced.  
  
“If you say so, Hermione.” Conceded Parvati. And Hermione nodded, glad that this line of questioning was over.

Even so, as they finally reached the front of the queue and were about to leave the school, she couldn’t help but glance over at the Gryffindor table one last time. The twins were still conversing with Lee in that conspiratorial manner but as she watched, Fred looked up towards the door and their eyes met. He looked surprised for a second and then grinned, elbowing his brother. George looked up too, caught her eyes and then blew her a kiss before turning back to Lee. Hermione felt blood coming up to her cheeks as Fred gave her one last wink and she turned away again, only to find the Patil twins watching her cynically, identical expressions of amusement on their faces.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” She muttered, and they laughed as they rolled their trunks away from the castle, the fingers of Hermione’s left hand reaching up to play with the pompom that dangled from her hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^.^ Can you tell I really want Hermione to have more girlfriends?


	14. Dropped Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione receives Christmas presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMIONE! In honour of our hero's birthiversary, I really will post two chapters today. Enjoy!

On Christmas morning, Hermione woke in the Ski Lodge feeling warm and happy. For a while, she was content to simply lay under the soft duvet and think about what had been just the holiday she’d needed.  
  
When she’d disembarked off the Hogwarts Express, her mother and father had been standing among the other parents looking slightly out of place in their normal muggle clothes. They were craning their necks searching for her and, dignity be damned, she’d run at them from the second her feet had touched the platform, throwing herself at her father and then almost immediately letting go if him to embrace her mother – one hand still clinging to his.

__  
“Missed us, have you, love?” He’d said, half amused, half-choked himself.  
  
“Only a little,” she said, laughing, tears in her eyes.  


They’d been eager to hear all about how her first term had gone, and once she started talking she found it very difficult to stop. The lessons, her success, the drama of the troll, the friends she’d made… all were described in vivid detail as they made their way to Dover. She skipped out some parts, of course: How miserable she’d been at first, that her twelfth birthday had passed without a friend to wish her a happy one, that trolls were twelve foot high and deadly, the fact that she was in the process of foiling a teacher’s plot to steal something precious from within the castle. As supportive as they were, she was almost entirely certain they would draw the line somewhere before near-death experiences and evil teachers.

She felt the gap between herself and them widen slightly with every omission in her story, and the weight of it rested in her chest like a small boulder. The momentum of what had happened when she chose to leave them for Hogwarts wasn’t anything she could stop, though. The reality she occupied when there was something so far removed from their own experiences that she didn’t see how she could ever reconcile the two. A year ago she had found out that she had something inside her that meant she could be something different from her parents. Now, after a single term at Hogwarts, she already felt like she was becoming it. As terrifying and saddening as that new space between them was, it was also titillating, exciting or – no, there was a better word – magic. And as the salty channel air filled her lungs on the ferry, she decided that whatever she was becoming, she would always be her parent’s child, and for as long as she was able to, she would enjoy that privilege to its fullest.

 

There had followed a week and a half of storybook bliss. Falling over in the snow, unable to get up because of the skiis, uncontrollable descents down steep white slopes and warm hot chocolate by a comforting fire when they got back to the lodge.  
It had been, she reflected with no huge exaggeration, perfect. And, as the smell of frying pancakes wafted towards her, she sat up ready to have a Christmas in exactly the same vein.  
  
“Thought the smell might get you out of bed,” laughed her mother from the table, as Hermione shuffled in, still yawning. She smiled and walked over to her father, leaning around him to take a deep breath of caramelising sugar.  
  
“Mmm!” She groaned, “Merry Christmas.” They laughed and said it back.

After breakfast, they went to sit around the tree in the living room and open presents. As usual, they watched her open hers first. Her mother had bought her gorgeous set of three notebooks, with cream paper and illuminated covers in red and gold.  
  
“They’re beautiful!” She said, running her fingers over the thick paper, “and in Gryffindor colours!”  
  
“We wanted to give you something you could use at school,” explained her father, “And think of us.” Added her mum. When she opened the second present that was waiting for her she almost burst into tears.  
  
“Hermione?” Her mother sounded more than a little concerned, “are you okay? Is it not right?”  
  
“We saw the moving pictures in your books and wrote to that lovely McGonagall teacher to ask if she might help us out with it,” explained her father, “we sent her the picture and she-“  
  
“And she developed it in the motion-potion,” Hermione finished for him, nodding. “I figured.”  
  
“Do you not like it?” Her mother asked tentatively, “Is it a little embarrassing to still have photos of-“  
  
She was cut off as her daughter pulled both her and her father into a tight bear hug.  
  
“I love it. Thank you. Thank you so much, it’s perfect.”

They were all smiling at each other tearfully when there was a tapping sound at the window. They turned to see a snowy white owl, which Hermione immediately recognised as Hedwig, tapping her claws impatiently on the sill outside. She hurried to the window and let the bird in, before turning to her slightly bemused parents.  
  
“It’s alright, she’s Harry’s owl – her name’s Hedwig. He might be sending me news on some research we’re doing or…” She trailed off, realising that she was wrong. Hedwig was holding, not a note, but three brown paper parcels. “Oh.”  
  
“Your friends sending you presents?” her father filled in, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.  
  
“Yes…” She said quietly, still looking at the parcels, “yes, I suppose so…” She had left presents with Professor McGonagall for Harry and Ron but somehow hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d send her something in return. It was so unprecedented for her to have such close friends that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, even as she wrapped chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s every flavoured Beans for them.

She brought round a saucer of water for Hedwig to refresh herself with, complimenting her dedication to the job, before sitting own to open this fresh wave of presents. The first was in Harry’s spindly writing, the name of her lodge printed carefully across it. She opened it slowly, savouring the feeling of having had someone else think of her at this festive time. It was a brand new set of quills, one she’d actually seen advertised in an issue of The Daily Prophet about a week before she’d left. She ran the feathers gently through her fingers and smiled. She’d use these with her new journals, she was sure.

She then turned her attention to the package that was so clearly Ron’s it might as well have been hand delivered by him. It was messily wrapped, and the hastily scribbled name on top was barely legible, but she opened it up she gave a little gasp of surprise. It was a small white mug with a grotesquely stupid looking troll drawn on the front, flashing different colours of paint. She spotted a note tucked inside it and pulled it out.

  
_I used that spell you did on the Potter for President banner, and when you put tea in it, the troll conks out. Merry Christmas!_   
  


She could feel herself grinning uncontrollably, and looked up to see her parents smiling at her.  
“Harry and Ron?” asked her mother, and she nodded, still beaming.  
  
“Well who’s that one from then?” Her father nodded towards the last package and Hermione turned to look at it.  
  
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, curious.  
  
“Well open it then, and find out!” He laughed.  
  
She picked the package up and held it in her hands. It was bigger than the other two, and soft and squishy. Her name was written across the front of the paper in handwriting she didn’t recognise – almost as messy as Ron’s. She tore the paper carefully down in a straight line and-

“Oh!” She said, pulling out the contents, “it’s a jumper!” Clearly hand-knitted, the jumper was a deep blue colour, with –  
  
“Is that a cat?” Asked her father, confused, “A ginger cat?” She laughed, hugging the jumper to her chest.  
  
“Yes. Yes it is. Hang on…” Another note had fallen from the jumper, fluttering onto the floor. She retrieved it and read:

  
_Granger,_  
  
_We told mum you wanted to know what it’s like to grow up with such a huge family – so here’s a taster. Something that constantly reminds you of past embarrassment but keeps you warm all the same. Enjoy!_  
_Merry Christmas,_  
  
_F &G_  


  


“It’s from Ron’s mum,” she explained to her parents, “Fred and George – his brothers – asked her to make one for me.” Her parents looked at each other, mildly bewildered.  
  
“Well that was very nice of them,” said her mother.  
  
“Yes,” she agreed, “it really was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^.^ And thank you for your patience with how slow this is going; I know that for a Fremione fic it doesn't have much Fremione yet but we will get there, I promise. Your comments/kudos make my day <3


	15. Side-Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finally starts to piece some things together - with a little help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of the day, as promised. Okay, it's 00:13 but I'm pretty sure most of you don't even live in my timezone so does it really matter that I'm thirteen minutes late? DOES IT? Okay sorry, gosh.

Hermione arrived back at Hogwarts a day before term started, and what started out as a warm reunion with Harry and Ron was quickly overshadowed by their recounting of all she had missed while away. She felt torn. On the one hand, they had almost gone and got themselves caught by Filch again by wandering off at night – “ _honestly_ , I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes!” – but she couldn’t help feeling that if they were going to risk being out of bed, they might have actually tried a bit harder to find what they were looking for. It didn’t help that Harry kept saying:  
  
“I’m sure I’ve read his name somewhere before…” They were in the library again. Hermione had another stack of books piled next to her, which she was systematically scanning, and Ron was pulling books off the shelves at random, for some reason feeling the need to commentate on the affair as he did it.

“Not in this one either. Then again, it would be a bit odd if he was one of the _Most influential Confectioners of the Magical World_ – what’s Fluffy guarding, a giant chocoball?” He paused. “Mind you, if I had a giant chocoball I’d probably guard it with everything I had too…”

Hermione ignored Ron, who seemed quite happy to indulge in this train of thought for the time being and addressed Harry instead.  
“Well that doesn’t really help unless you can remember _where_ you read it, does it, Harry?”  
  
“No,” Harry admitted glumly, “I suppose not.” He sighed. “Anyway, I’ve got to go – Quidditch practice.” Hermione looked up at him, crestfallen.  
  
“Again?”  
  
“It’s four days a week now, Hermione, Wood won’t let us relax for a second.” Harry only sounded half apologetic.  
  
“He’s desperate to win the Cup,” said Ron, “You win this next match and you’re ahead of Slytherin.”  
  
“Yeah, don’t worry, Wood won’t let us forget it,” Harry said, and made to leave, “good luck, anyway.”  
  
“You too,” Hermione and Ron said together, and they shared a small smile as Harry left. 

Sometimes Hermione felt as though Ron wasn’t as keen to have her as a friend as Harry was, except when she was helping them with homework or directing their efforts in research, but this was one thing they shared. They did both care about Harry, and Hermione knew she was alright in Ron’s books if she had his best interests at heart.  
  
“Do you want me to look at some of the books in that pile?” He asked, nodding to the tower.  
  
“Hmm… yes, actually,” She said, thinking, and then pulled out the two thinnest, “check the indexes first and then scan the chapters I’ve highlighted,” she instructed, “if you wouldn’t mind.” He chuckled at her half-hearted attempt to make it sound like a request.  
  
“Yes Ma’am,” He said, and saluted. She smirked and turned back to her book. Sometimes she thought he might not mind her at all.

*

They had been working quietly for a time before she felt Ron tap her shoulder.

“Do you wanna go back up to the Common Room? It’s getting late.”

“Already?” Didn’t he understand how important it was that they get this done?

“Hermione, we’ve been here for almost two hours – it’s dark,” He said this slowly, and she blinked, realising it was true by the colour of the sky outside.

“Oh,” She blushed slightly, “alright then.”

They walked back up companionably, talking about where they might look next, but once they got in, they were interrupted.

“Back then, Granger?”  
  
“Had a good Christmas?”  
  
“We’re both extremely offended you didn’t rush to greet us immediately-” The rest of Fred’s sentence was lost along with the breath from his lungs as she propelled herself at the both of them, an arm around each of their necks. She felt their hands automatically go to her back to steady the three-person unit they had suddenly become.  
  
“ThankyouforthejumperIlovedit,” She said in one breath, squeezing them one last time before releasing them and backing off slightly to take in the identical bemused expressions on their faces.  
  
“You know that wasn’t us, right?” Asked George  
  
“Well, I know you didn’t knit it, yes but it was you who asked your mother to do it,” She said, rolling her eyes.  
  
“No, no, no,” Said George firmly, “that wasn’t us.”  
  
“That was our festive counterparts, Gred and Forge, who are much more affectionate and giving than we are,” Fred explained, calmly.  
  
“They even consent to let Percy and Ron sit with them during meals.” Added George.  
  
“Consent?” Asked Ron, snorting, “you practically kidnapped us.”  
  
“Gred and Forge kidnapped you, Ron” Said Fred pointedly, “because Christmas is a time for family.” His gaze had slid from Ron to her as he said those last words and she felt the last vestiges of her reservations from their fight dissolve.  
  
“Yeah,” she breathed. Hermione?  
  
“Hermione? I said, d’you wanna play some chess?!”  
  
“Oh! Um-” She suspected she was going slightly pink, and even losing to Ron at Chess was better than standing there blushing, “Yeah. Sure.”

*

When Harry arrived back in the common room, she was around ten turns away from defeat. She was only aware of this vaguely, from the look on Ron’s face rather than any actual skilful grasp of his strategy. This was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, and she sensed the boys might take slightly too much pleasure in reminding her of it.

“Don’t talk to me for a moment,” Ron said as Harry sat down, “I need to concen- what’s the matter with you? You look terrible.” Hermione looked up from the board to see he was right. Harry looked from left to right as though checking for eavesdroppers before speaking.

“It’s Snape.” He said grimly, “He’s volunteered to referee the Hufflepuff match.”

“Don’t play,” said Hermione at once, dread creeping up her neck.

“Say you’re ill,” agreed Ron.

“Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested, thinking of Wood’s maniacal obsession with the Cup, and adjusting Harry’s required injury accordingly.

“ _Really_ break your leg.” Said Ron, escalating matters only slightly too much for Hermione’s constitution.

Harry began rejecting the plan before she could, although his reasons were more about the Quidditch Cup than anything else – honestly, did they not think about anything else? – when Neville fell through the portrait hole and onto the common room floor with a painful amount of noise. The lack of grace in his entrance wasn’t surprising given that, as they saw now, his legs were stuck together. _Leg-locker Curse_ , thought Hermione _it’s a miracle he’s managed to get through at all_. Everyone else in the room fell about laughing even as she got up to perform the counter-curse. His legs sprang back apart and he managed to get to his feet again, trembling.

“What happened?” She asked, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.  
  
“Malfoy,” he said shakily, and she felt some flame of anger begin to burn in the pit of her stomach, “I met him outside the library. He said he’d been looking for someone to practice on.” _That scumbag!_  
  
“Go to Professor McGonagall!” She said instantly, “Report him!” But Neville shook his head.  
  
“I don’t want more trouble,” he mumbled, and she felt frustration mix with pity.  
  
“You’ve got to stand up to him, Neville!” Said Ron, who seemed to be feeling more of the former than the latter, “He’s used to walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.” It was well put, if not particularly gentle.  
  
“There’s no need to tell me I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor," Said Neville sullenly, "Malfoy’s already done that.” 

The flame that had begun burning inside Hermione was extinguished as quickly as it had ignited, Neville’s words feeling like a sudden wave of ice water. How many times had she thought that same thing? About Neville? About herself? Shame filled her as she looked into his dejected face. Maybe she was just as bad as Malfoy.

“You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” Harry said, so that for a second Hermione thought he’d read her mind, “The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin.” He was speaking firmly to Neville, handing him a Chocolate Frog. Still, Hermione felt every word as though it were addressed to her, a different kind of warmth filling her and chasing out her guilt. Pride. She had a good house and good friends. _And I belong with both_. She had to take a moment to step back, unexpected tears filling her eyes while the boys talked about Chocolate Frog cards. She turned away and wiped her face quickly with her sleeves, only to find that she was being watched.

In their usual haunt, Fred, George and Lee had been playing with Angelina the tarantula, but Fred had stopped paying attention, his gaze fixed on her. She looked away, embarrassed, but there was nothing teasing in his eyes when hers found them again. There was a small crease between his brows now. Slowly, making sure she was watching, he raised one hand from his lap, placing it in the middle of his chest before taking a deep breath in. She watched him hold it, confused for a moment. And then the dizziness hit her and she realised what he meant. She hadn’t noticed that in her moment of anxiety she’d stopped breathing. Her lips parted and she took a rasping breath, staring at him. Fred nodded and then exhaled slowly. Understanding what he wanted her to do, she matched him breath for breath until her heart rate had returned to normal. She inclined her head once and he gave her a half-smile before turning back to his table.

“ _I’ve found him!_ ” Harry whispered excitedly, his fingers grasping her wrist suddenly, “I’ve found Flamel! I _told_ you I’d read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here-” _Yes_ , Hermione thought, astonished, as he held out the Chocolate Frog card to her, _it looks like we all found exactly what we’d need a long time ago on The Hogwarts Express_... She was hit by the sensation of everything falling into place and told the boys to stay where they were as she rushed upstairs to get a book she’d had for weeks… _even if we’re only just realising it now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^.^ Hope you enjoyed it :)


	16. Side-saddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff, the opportunity to get a lead on Slytherin and Snape as a referee. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I took a couple days off from posting to get my three-chapter writing lead back. It's Fresher's week so I've been a bit busy but rest assured there's some good plotty stuff happening after this. I'm writing a long chapter that I'll post in two or three parts before the week is over so I hope that makes up for the little break.

While they had finally found out who Nicolas Flamel was, and what was hidden under the trapdoor in the third floor corridor, Hermione Harry and Ron were by no means rid of all their problems. For one, there was still the issue of Snape’s sudden and sinister desire to referee the Gryffindor–Hufflepuff game. Harry had insisted on playing, and Hermione was torn between admiration at his bravery and anxiety at the possible consequences. It wasn’t as though she’d be able to run onto the pitch and set fire to Snape again; there would be nowhere to hide.

All the same, both Ron and Hermione brought their wands to the match, having practiced the Leg-Locker curse on each other the night before. Neville, who they were sitting next to, was very confused as to why they looked so tense.  
  
“Now don’t forget, it’s _Locomotor Mortis_ ,” Hermione muttered as Ron stowed his wand up his sleeve.  
  
“I _know_ ,” He snapped, “Don’t nag.” She shot him a glare but otherwise ignored his rudeness. They both had bigger things to worry about – namely the murderous look on Snape’s as as the teams marched onto the pitch.  
  
“I’ve never seen Snape look so mean,” Ron said, and then began his usual commentary before- “Ouch!” Distractedly, Hermione looked back to see Malfoy behind them. As if they needed another thing to worry about. She decided to block him out entirely, focussing solely on Harry and his safety. Ron seemed to be trying a similar tact, directing his anger at Snape, who had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George had hit a Bludger at him, rather than responding to Malfoy’s sequence of jibes.

As Hermione watched Harry circling the pitch like a hawk, she was dimly aware of Neville getting involved in the argument with Malfoy.  
“…worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” He was stammering.  
  
“You tell him, Neville,” encouraged Ron, even as he kept his gaze fixed on his friend in the sky.  
  
“Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”  
  
“I’m warning you, Malfoy – one more word –” Of course Ron couldn’t keep up the cool response for long but- _Oh!_ Harry had gone into a spectacular dive-  
  
“Ron! Harry-” She pointed and, realising she was now standing, she didn’t bother to finish her sentence.  
  
“You’re in luck, Weasley, Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground…” He looked like a speeding bullet, a streak of scarlet and gold speeding towards the grass-  
  
“Come on, Harry!” She screamed, and as someone shifted to block her view, she clambered up onto her seat without thinking, fingers crossed so hard that blood had stopped getting to them. She saw Snape turn as Harry narrowly missed him, gave one last burst of speed and then pulled out of the dive, his fist in the air.

“Oh, I don’t believe it!” She said out loud, and then as her words were swallowed by the roar of the crowd, she screamed into it joyfully, turning to look for Ron. But the first person she saw wasn’t Ron but Parvati, who pulled her into a hug and squealed. Ecstatic, Hermione went with it, dancing as she shouted.  
  
“Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game’s over! Harry’s won! We’ve won! Gryffindor is in the lead!” She finally saw him, at the bottom of a bloody pile consisting of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and – inexplicably – Neville. At her words, he miraculously swept the first three off of him, standing as they toppled to the side. He looked frantically at first Hermione then the team – who were in the middle of an airborne celebration – and then, disregarding the blood streaming from his face, jumped up into the seat with her joined in, swearing joyfully. Hermione laughed and looked back over to the pitch.

The team had finally gotten back to land, and Harry was being congratulated by Dumbledore. She spotted Snape, spitting bitterly on the ground and her sense of triumph doubled. The three chasers were holding hands and spinning wildly around, screaming. Wood was doubled over on the ground; whether he was laughing, crying or worshiping Harry, she couldn’t tell. But where were Fred and George…? She scanned the ground but couldn’t see them anywhere and yet it would be so unlike them not to stay and celebrate.   
She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked to see Parvati smirking at her. Silently, she pointed up, and Hermione followed her finger to see them – two specks high in the sky looping loops around each other. She felt a grin spread back over her face – damn what Parvati thought, she was _happy_ – and then there was a BANG.

Suddenly she wasn’t the only one looking skywards. There was no mistaking that that was where the noise had come from, and the accompanying flash of light was impossible not to trace. In the air, the Weasley twins were hovering on either side of huge cloud of bright orange smoke. As they watched, it took shape and solidified, forming the words: _QUIDDITCH IS COMING HOME!_ She joined in the answering cheer from the Gryffindor crowd as they ran onto the pitch to lift the team onto their shoulders, chanting: “Go, go, Gryffindor!” Hermione looked back up to see the twins conducting the singing with their wands and laughed.

They were apparently now circling low enough to pick her voice up out of the crowd because she saw their eyes scan it before coming to rest on her. Their faces broke into identical grins and they drifted over to hover their brooms above her and Parvati. Without warning, Fred swooped down and hauled Hermione up onto his broom. She squealed and clung to the handle, only barely noticing that George had done the same to Parvati.

“Fred, put me down!” She screamed.  
  
“What, you don’t like flying?” he said, laughing.  
  
“I’m not the biggest fan, no!” She said, her knuckles white from her death grip on the wood.  
  
“Relax, Granger, look-” He dropped the broom a foot, “-we’re nice and low, yeah – not dangerous at all.”  
  
“Fre-ed,” She moaned, her stomach turning, “please, I-” She stopped. He’d shifted forwards on the broom while pulling her back by her hips, and now his hands came to rest in front of hers on the handle, chest pressing against her back.  
  
“There you go,” he said quietly, his mouth by her ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Despite herself, Hermione felt her head nod as it rested on his shoulder. Her stomach settled as she felt the comforting warmth of him behind her. And then they stopped moving. She looked around in surprise to see that he’d landed them so gently she hadn’t noticed as his feet touched the ground. “Alright, look – you’re back on the ground now, nice and safe – off you pop.” He gave her a nudge and she dismounted with minimum embarrassment. 

“Fred-”

But when she turned around, he’d already flown off. She looked up to see that Parvati had joined George in conducting the crowd, trying to control her giggles as he steered them around it in circles. She felt an unexpected pang of regret but was interrupted by a collision with Ron, Dean and Seamus, who were jumping up and down in a knot of celebration. Shrugging, she joined in and thought no more of anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^.^ Also thanks to everyone who's commenting and giving me kudos it really is so motivating and it's lovely to see that readers take the time to tell you what they're enjoying <3


	17. Letting the Side Down, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exam season approaches. Everything goes to shit. It's an experience we're all familiar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE SO MUCH READING TO DO FOR UNI so the update schedule is going to have to drop down to a few chapters a week and we're all just going to have to deal with that okay? Okay. Here's one for ya:

In the months after the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, things only got more and more hectic for Hermione, Harry and Ron. It started almost as soon as Harry finally met them outside the changing rooms, when he told them about an ominous conversation he’d heard between Snape and Quirrell. It sounded as though Snape was threatening Quirrell because his was the only layer of protection around the Philosopher’s Stone that was still giving him trouble. While Hermione wouldn’t insult him, the thought of the stammering Defence Professor being the only thing standing between Snape and immortality was troubling to say the least.

As Easter approached, however, Hermione’s thoughts turned to another pressing issue. Or rather, _seven extremely pressing_ issues. While she had been caught up with unravelling the plot to steal the Stone, Hermione had somehow managed to push the thought of exams to the back of her mind – a neglect she was regretting passionately now. _Stupid thing to do_ , she reprimanded herself, _it’s not as if I can save the wizarding world if I’m expelled from it_. So, with a mere ten weeks to go, Hermione began drawing up a revision timetable.

The boys were horrified. She suspected that, after how much time they’d spent in the library looking for Flamel, they had been happily anticipating a holiday away from the library. She drew up revision timetables for them too. Despite their disgust at her attempts to get ahead, they kept her company in the library when they had the time free.  
It was on one such day, while Hermione was going over the events of the development of self-stirring cauldrons for History of Magic, when they happened upon Hagrid. He refused to tell them anymore about the non-fluffy guards protecting the Stone, but did seem very eager to talk to them about something later, and he was behaving in an extremely shifty manner.

“What was he hiding behind his back?” Hermione asked after he had slinked – if a man that large could be said to slink – away. When Ron came back after investigating what Hagrid had been reading, she almost wished she hadn’t asked.  
  
“ _Dragons!_ ” He said, and she fought the impulse to burst into tears.

*

“ _Hagrid, you live in a wooden house!_ ” But Hagrid wasn’t listening, humming merrily as he stoked the fire. The heat was unbearable, and she was far less charming as she left than she had been on her entrance.

“He’s mad!” She shouted, as they left the hut, “completely and utterly-”  
  
“Barmy,” Ron agreed, “but we have to make sure he doesn’t get caught.”  
  
“Ron, we don’t have time to be protecting Hagrid, we have to get ready for these exams!”  
  
“And you’re going to hang Hagrid out to dry, are you?”  
  
“I never said that!”  
  
“You basically did, actually, Hermione – I thought you’d got your priorities sorted now! How are you _still_ putting grades and homework over your friends?” Hermione recoiled, stung. Harry must have seen it because it was at this point that he said firmly:  
  
“That’s enough.” They both looked at him, “There’s no reason we can’t to both. We’re the only people that visit his hut anyway, and he won’t be stupid enough to let it out. I’m sure he’ll be safe until we can figure something out.”

But later that day it became clear that things were not going to be that easy. While Ron and Harry insisted optimistically that Malfoy hadn’t heard what they were talking about, Hermione couldn’t shake her feeling of dread. When his pale pointed face appeared in the window of Hagrid’s hut on the morning the dragon hatched, there was no denying it. Norbert had to go. She agreed with Harry that Ron’s brother Charlie would be the best point of contact but she didn’t see how they were going to manage transporting a baby dragon all the way to Romania without alerting the authorities.

The day that Charlie’s letter of reply came back, they barely had time to feel mildly relieved before yet another complication presented itself. Ron had been bitten by Norbert while helping Hagrid to feed him, and although it hadn’t seemed too bad to begin with, by morning his hand was quickly swelling to double size.  
  
“I can probably just wait it out,” he said through gritted teeth, looking between Harry and Hermione desperately, “if Madame Pomfrey sees it she might recognise what it is.” There was a moment of silence. Hermione stared at the bite, which was now turning a nasty shade of green. She took a deep breath and said what they were all thinking.  
  
“Rather risk trouble than death, Ron. You have to go.” The boys let out identical sighs. She realized with a start that they had been waiting for her to say it. Neither of them argued.

Ron told Madam Pomfrey that it was a dog bite, and while she didn’t seem entirely convinced, she didn’t press for a more truthful answer. Again, for about six hours, it looked as though they might scrape through by the skin of their teeth.

On the evening of Ron’s first day in the hospital wing, Harry and Hermione went down to visit him. He told them that Madam Pomfrey seemed okay about not knowing the whole story but looked to be in a terrible state nonetheless.  
  
“It’s not just my hand,” he whispered, “although that feels like it’s about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me.” He said something about regretting hitting Malfoy at the Quidditch match but as she’d not really been paying attention at the time of the incident, Hermione didn’t feel qualified to assess whether it was the cause of her troubles. She went for comfort instead.

“It’ll all be over at midnight on Saturday,” She said soothingly. Ron sat bolt upright, looking like he’d just been hit with a brick.  
  
“Midnight on Saturday!” He croaked, “Oh no – oh no – I’ve just remembered – Charlie’s letter was in that book Malfoy took –” Hermione felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “- he’s going to know we’re getting rid of Norbert.” She opened her mouth to shout or scream or cry but the arrival of Madam Pomfrey stopped her tongue.

“Okay, dears, I think that’s enough visiting time for one day, your friend here needs sleep,”  
_Our friend needs a good throttling_ , thought Hermione viciously, as she and Harry were ushered out of the room.

“Why did he let Malfoy have that book?” She moaned as they made their way to Hagrid’s hut.  
  
“Hermione, how could he have said no in front of Madam Pomfrey, even if he did remember?” Hermione wasn’t comfortable with Harry being the voice of reason yet again.  
  
“Well, he might have taken the letter out before he handed it over!”  
  
“Yes but he was a tad busy being in agonising pain – or had you forgotten?” He shot her a thin-lipped look and she sighed.  
  
“Yes, okay, it can’t be helped, I know.” She said, and then took a few deep breaths in and out, “It’s just – it’s just one thing after another, and right now, when we’re supposed to be focussing on passing the year-”  
  
“Priorities, remember?” He said gently, nudging her, “and anyway, it’s too late to change the plan now,” She tried to conceal the pang of hurt she felt at his echoing of Ron’s earlier words and focus on his logic instead, “We haven’t got time to send Charlie another owl and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We’ll have to risk it. And we _have_ got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn’t know about that.” She nodded, agreeing. Risky or not, there was no going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and kudosing and commenting and everything else you lovely people continue to do. It makes me happy and it makes me want to write <3


	18. Letting the Side Down, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adios, Norbert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you for being patient with me as I got back into the swing of things for Uni - the workload has been pretty heavy right off the bat but I did promise I'd be uploading regularly so I'm sorry. The new schedule is hopefully every weekend and Wednesday ^.^

When Saturday evening rolled around, Hermione was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, trying to get some work done. While everyone else was winding down for the day, it was still hours before midnight, and she was trying to use the time productively. It wasn’t working. She couldn’t focus on anything, and was staring out of the window at the cloudy sky when a pair of hands clamped suddenly onto her shoulders. She jumped and simultaneously pulled out her wand in two seconds flat, twisting around to point it at-  
“Fred?!” She hissed, “What the bloody Hell was that for?!” He raised his hands in the air in surrender, a look of surprise on his face.

“Woooah there,” He said, “It was just a joke. I am _incredibly_ sorry but can we please stop pointing a wand at the most handsome face in Hogwarts?” She stopped glaring at him long enough to remember that she was still in a defensive position and lowered her wand, sighing. He frowned and sat down on the seat next to her. “Ron’s not infectious is he?”  
  
“What?” No one was supposed to know that Ron had been bitten, how on Earth-?  
  
“You said _bloody Hell_!” He said in a stage whisper, hands over his ears. She half-laughed in relief.  
  
“Yes, well I’m under a lot of stress.”  
  
“You look it. No offense.” He added when she shot him a warning look. “Harry’s just gone up to bed saying he’s not feeling so hot, either.”

Hermione registered that Fred was still in Quidditch kit, that he must have just come back from practice.  
  
“Mmm,” She said, thinking that Harry must be getting some rest before they went out tonight, “I guess it’s just the stress from exam preparation.” There was a moment of silence in which he looked at her, assessing. And then, very carefully, he asked:  
  
“Is that _all_ it is?” She looked up to find his eyes steady on hers and swallowed.  
  
“What else would it be?” She said airily, to which he rolled his eyes.  
  
“Come on, Granger, we’re not stupid. You didn’t give us the details but we haven’t forgotten that there’s something else going on with you.” He paused and she felt him watching her as she pushed a strand of hair out of her face. He waited until she looked him in the face again and then reached out to touch her hand with his, gently.  
  
“Is it still not dangerous enough to tell us?” She looked down at his warm hand on hers and back up to his even warmer eyes. She knew he was trying his best not to push her this time, and as a result, felt doubly guilty for the answer she gave him.

“We’re fine. I promise.” Another pregnant pause. Hermione held her breath. He nodded.  
  
“Okay,” He said quietly, and moved his hand back to his side, “if you say so.” She let out the breath in relief as he stood up. As if on cue, George came through the portrait hole along with Angelina, Alicia and Katie. They were laughing at something or the other but, as per usual, George’s gaze gravitated towards wherever his twin was and, when Hermione met his gaze, Fred turned to follow it to his brother.

“Right,” He said brusquely, “See you around then Granger – take care of yourself.”  
  
“You too,” She forced a smile and watched him go to sit with the group who’d now joined Lee Jordan in the twins’ usual corner. Katie was making faces at Angelina the tarantula as Lee petted it affectionately and Hermione’s mind turned to Hagrid again. They were doing what they could to protect him. That was why she had to lie to Fred. That was why she shouldn’t be feeling guilty for having done so. It was perfectly sound logic.

She still couldn’t focus on her work.

*

Half an hour before midnight, Harry crept down from the boy’s dormitory looking only slightly better rested than she did.

“Ready to go?” He asked her.

“Got the cloak?” He held it up and she nodded.

As though the universe was enjoying the experience of increasing Hermione’s blood pressure to exploding point, they were late in getting to Hagrid’s hut because they had to wait for Peeves to vacate the Entrance Hall first. She felt vaguely sorry as Hagrid said a tearful goodbye to his scaly charge, but her more sympathetic emotions were dominated by the anxiety that was only getting more intense the closer they got to the pick-up time. Despite the weight of the crate they held between them, it was Hermione who led as they hurried back to the castle and up several sets of stairs, chewing her lip nervously.

“Nearly there!” Panted Harry as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower. And they almost dropped the crate as something moved ahead of them. They both shrank back into the shadows – although, of course, they were already invisible – and watched as two figures grappled in the darkness. A lamp flared.  
It was Professor McGonagall, in a tartan dressing-gown and a hairnet holding – _oh my!_ – Malfoy by the ear.

“Detention!” She shouted, “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you-”  
  
“You don’t understand, Professor, Harry Potter’s coming – he’s got a dragon!”  
  
“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy”  
  
The voices faded into the distance and under the cloak, Harry and Hermione turned to look at each other, slowly. As soon as their eyes met they burst into fits of giggles, stuffing their fists in their mouths to stifle them.

After that, even the steep spiral staircase up to the tower’s top seemed like the easiest thing in the world. It was only when they got into the open air and had thrown off the cloak that Hermione was able to let out her emotions – dancing from foot to foot.  
  
“Malfoy’s got a detention! I could sing!”  
  
“Don’t,” Harry advised her, grinning.

It was another ten minutes before Charlie’s friends descended from the sky, apparently as cheerful as Harry and Hermione were. They all worked together to buckle Norbert carefully into the harness they’d rigged up and shook both Harry and Hermione’s hands before departing. As she watched the brooms disappear into the night sky, Hermione could have cried with relief. Norbert was gone. One more thing off her plate. She felt suddenly exhausted.  
  
They allowed themselves a moment of shared triumph in the cool night air, grinning at each other before they slipped back down the staircase, light hearted and free. All was well again. Until.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Filch whispered, “We _are_ in trouble.” They froze at the bottom of the staircase, horrified. They’d left the invisibility cloak at the top of the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We're quite close to the end of this book now and - fair warning - I'm probably gonna take another break when it's done to get ahead on writing the second book so's I'm not leaving you on hiatus when my coursework deadlines approach. Thank you for your patience and I hope you're still interested in this story - I certainly am :')


	19. Letting the Side Down, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's a me, sticking to my schedule! Amazing.

As Filch led them down to McGonagall’s office, Hermione had the strange sensation of feeling her mind had separated from her body. She knew they were in awful trouble. She knew that things could not be worse. That she would likely be turned out from the school altogether. And yet she could not bring herself to even look at Harry, never mind speak to him, even as they sat and waited for their Head of House to appear. They should be thinking up cover stories, surely, but – then – what tale could possibly save them now? She was vaguely aware of Harry trying to catch her eye but ignored it. She could not get them out of this one. _Well at least I know what rock bottom feels like_ , she heard herself think. She was wrong.

When McGonagall did finally appear, she was not alone. Of all people, _Neville_ was on the end of her arm. Hermione wondered if she was dreaming.  
  
“Harry!” He burst out as they entered the study, “I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag-”  
She saw Harry shake his head violently but McGonagall had already heard. She seemed to grow a good few inches as she towered over all three of them, eyes blazing.  
  
“I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr Filch says you were up the astronomy tower. It’s one o’clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves_.” While her eyes slid over all three of them, she held them on Hermione the longest. _I suppose_ , Hermione thought darkly, _she’s used to you giving the answers_. She couldn’t look her in the eye after that, and dropped her gaze to her slippers, staring.

“I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s been going on,” said Professor McGonagall. “It doesn’t take a genius to work it out.” _Here it comes_. “You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble.” This sentence was so powerfully unexpected that it shook Hermione out of her stupor. She blinked. “I’ve already caught him. I suppose you think it’s funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it too?” _Oh no._ Surely Neville wouldn’t believe that they’d done this to make fun of him? But – Hermione remembered that he had all but announced his insecurities to them in the common room, insecurities that she understood all too well – of course he would. He shrank away from Harry’s stammered denial and Hermione registered for the first time that he, terrified, blundering Neville, had left the dorms in the dead of night to find them and warn them. Hermione’s numbness was replaced by a horrible sickening feeling of shame as McGonagall continued.

“I’m disgusted. Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense.” Tears sprang into Hermione’s eyes, “As for you, Mr Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will serve detentions – yes, you too, Mr Longbottom!” Hermione’s guts twisted in sympathy as Neville cringed away from the Professor, “ _Nothing_ gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it’s very dangerous – and fifty pints will be taken from Gryffindor.”  
  
“ _Fifty?_ ” Harry gasped. It didn’t seem very overzealous to Hermione.  
  
“Fifty points _each_ ,” She snarled, breathing heavily through her nose. Hermione’s eyes widened and she was finally moved to speech.  
  
“Professor – please –”  
  
“You _can’t_ -”  
  
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you.” And then, as though putting the final nail through the coffin of Hermione’s self-esteem, she looked them all dead in the eye and said, her voice trembling with emotion, “I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.” Hermione had thought earlier that she knew what rock bottom felt like. She had been wrong.

*

The consequences of Saturday night went far beyond bringing shame to Professor McGonagall. When the rest of the Gryffindors came down in the morning to find almost half of the rubies that had been resting proudly in their House hourglass had been sent back to the top bulb, and the story circulated about who was responsible for it, it felt as though Hermione had stepped into one of her worst nightmares. Despised, rejected and shunned, it was everything she had been anxious about from the moment she’d found out she was coming to Hogwarts. For Harry, of course, it was much worse. He had already been so well known that his being involved in the forfeiture of their lead seemed to feel like an even more awful betrayal. All the same, Hermione was feeling the loss of the momentary popularity she’d enjoyed as a result of being his friend and aiding in the acquisition of their lead against Slytherin in the Quidditch Cup. Now all of that had been reversed.

Nobody would look her in the eye anymore except to glare at her. Lavender and Parvati had suddenly reverted to their behaviour at the beginning of the year – or, worse even, because now she knew they were talking about her when they shot disgusted glance in their direction. She had thought perhaps Neville would remain an ally, having been involved in the horrible incident himself, but the fact that the bullying vendetta against him had worsened to include his own housemates and that he still believed the story McGonagall had come up with to explain their actions meant that he actually got up and moved when she tried sitting next to him in class.

Harry and Ron, of course, remained loyal. They had decided to do this together and they would bear the load of the consequences as a team. It was hard to feel supported, however, when they were both as miserable as she was. She was too ashamed to write to her parents about it, and Harry refused to talk about it at all. He declared that he was giving up meddling in other people’s business for life, and given that he was dealing with his own fall from grace, Hermione couldn’t bring herself to talk to him about the return of her incapacitating anxiety. It had come back worse than ever, and she now even avoided drawing attention to herself in class. It wasn’t worth it, and anyway, she was becoming uncertain about basic facts these days, her whole world felt as though it was balanced on some extremely shaky ground. Every whisper, every cold shoulder sent another tremor through it as she teetered dangerously over an abyss.

Hermione reverted too, to the mode that she had been in at the start of the year. Her focus shifted entirely to her work. She spent almost every waking moment reading, either in the library or – as she was tonight – in the Gryffindor Common room, albeit in a dark corner where she was unlikely to be confronted with everyone’s hatred. She had been working for a couple of hours when she became aware of two figures approaching her slowly. She looked up to see Fred and George Weasley, and she could have wept. Of course. Surely, these light-hearted boys had once again realised what she needed before she had, and had come to provide it, free of charge. 

“Can you please move.” Said Fred flatly, and the smile dropped off of Hermione’s face like a sack of bricks.  
  
“What?” She mouthed, and she hated how small her voice sounded.  
  
“This is where we sit, Granger. You need to move.” George was talking to a point just over her left shoulder. She shook off her feeling of dread, surely this was just some ill-judged prank?  
  
“Oh, I should, should I?” She tried to sound arch, waiting for one of them to pick up the rhythm of their usual back-and-forth. Instead, her words fell at their feet heavily as they allowed the moment to pass.  
  
“Yes.” Fred’s eyes, usually so warm and open were completely unfamiliar. George’s face was identically blank, and for the first time since she had met them, there was nothing light in them.  
  
“Right,” she breathed, her gaze falling back to her desk, “Right, yes... of course.” She stuffed her things back into her bag and stood. They moved apart to create a path for her.  
They didn’t waste any more words on her; the message was clear enough. _Leave. You are not welcome here._

As she walked up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, she felt the last modicum of stability in the foundations of her life here fall away. She had once thought that being supported by the Weasley twins meant she was on the side of the angels. If they were angels, and they looked at her as the enemy, what did that make her? _Rock bottom_ , she thought numbly, _just kept going._ The world fell to pieces around her, and Hermione did not move from her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ^.^ And thank you for your kudos and kind comments and just for giving my work your time. It does not go unappreciated <3


	20. Building Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is sloooow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so not the weekend. I think I'm going to stick with this once a week thing - it seems the speed at which I can write/edit to the point I'm happy uploading. Two points: 1) This chapter doesn't include a reconciliation between Hermione and the twins just don't want to click bait you :') 2)The next chapter is going to be like four times my usual length so look forward to that beast. I just kept adding bits to it and now it's an unsplittable Frankenstein's monster of a Chapter. Enjoy!

Hermione found that her taste for adventure had disappeared along with everything else she’d gained since becoming friends with Harry and Ron. Despite swearing that they would never interfere in other people’s business again, it wasn’t long before Harry found something to test his resolve.  
  
“…and then Quirrell says ‘all right, all right’ and comes out looking like someone’s grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until his turban fell off. I went in but it looked like Snape had just left.”  
  
“Snape’s done it, then!” Said Ron, “If Quirrell’s told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell-“  
  
“There’s still Fluffy, though,” Hermione reminded him.  
  
“Maybe Snape’s found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid,” insisted Ron, and then gestured to the wealth of books that surrounded them, “I bet there’s a book somewhere in here, telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog.” Hermione found it hard to argue with the position that books were the source of all knowledge, but when Ron turned to Harry and added, “So what do we do?” alarm bells went off in her head.  
  
“Go to Dumbledore.” She said flatly, cutting him off before he began, “That’s what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we’ll be thrown out for sure.” And even that, she wasn’t sure they should do.  
  
“But we’ve got no _proof_!” said Harry, listing all the reasons Dumbledore wouldn’t believe them. Hermione nodded, pleased that he’d talked himself out of interfering. Ron still looked unconvinced.  
  
“If we just do a bit of poking around –”  
  
“No,” Said Harry before she could, “we’ve done enough poking around.” The conversation ended abruptly, and they each turned back to their revision.

*

“It’s alright, Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they’ve been here, and people still like them.”

“They’ve never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?” Said Harry miserably.

“Well – no.” Ron admitted.

“You know that the team are just calling me ‘The Seeker’ now?”

“They’re probably just- I mean- it’ll all…” Ron’s platitudes faded to nothing under Harry’s cynical look, and Hermione couldn’t help agreeing with him. If the examples he was using to defend them were themselves part of the angry mob, what chance did the argument stand? She had been running over the one short exchange she’d had with the twins, trying to consolidate it with her impression of them as a whole but she couldn’t find an explanation that sat right. As Ron said, they’d lost more than their fair share of House Points, so why would they be so coldly furious now? Hermione tried to write it off as pure and simple hypocrisy but it didn’t seem to fit with any of their precious behaviour. _Family_ , they’d said. Was this how family behaved? Thinking about that question felt like prodding a fresh bruise, and eventually she pushed all thought of it from her mind. She had other things to be focussing on.

The slips detailing their detentions arrived the following morning, and Hermione read hers without comment. _Eleven O’clock. That was a whole night of revision lost._ She looked up to the teacher’s table and caught a grim look from Professor McGonagall. It was no more than they deserved. 

One good thing about the quickly approaching exams was that Neville had forgotten he was giving Hermione and Harry the cold shoulder. Actually, when he asked for help in transfiguration, half-scowling, Hermione got the impression he viewed it as fair repayment for what they’d inadvertently put him through. It wasn’t the same as being friends but of course she was happy to help. She would have always been happy to help.

As a result, when eleven o’clock came, Hermione and Harry bid farewell to Ron and made their way down into the Entrance Hall with Neville. Filch was already there, looking far too pleased for Hermione’s comfort, along with Malfoy whose usual sneer had worsened as he saw them come in, clearly deeply offended at having to serve detention with them. He was shooting glares at them the whole way across the dark grounds as Filch muttered to himself about the good ‘old punishments’, the descriptions of which made Hermione feel a little nauseous, and she wasn’t altogether surprised when she heard Neville sniffling quietly to himself. What were they going to made to do? Surely it must be awful if Filch was so entirely thrilled about it…

In the dark, Hermione recognised the yellow squares of Hagrid’s hut windows shining ahead of them getting closer and closer. With a cautious moment of optimism she wondered whether it was remotely possible that they would just be helping the Games keeper with his chores.  
  
“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, want ter get started.” She felt her heart flutter slightly in hope. Harry must have shown his similar thoughts more obviously, because the next words she heard were far less reassuring.  
  
“I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?” Said Filch nastily, his yellow teeth gleaming in the lamp light, “Well, think again, boy – it’s into the Forrest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you’ll all come out in one piece.”  
  
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She heard Neville let out a hopeless moan and Malfoy stopped in his tracks entirely.  
  
“The Forrest?” He echoed, sounding considerable less cool than usual, “We can’t go in there at night – there’s all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard.”  
  
“Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn’t you?” The moonlight glinted off of Filch’s graveyard teeth and the night suddenly seemed colder. A heavy sense of trepidation settled in Hermione’s stomach and didn’t dislodge, even as Hagrid’s familiar voice floated through the dark.

*

Hermione had read about unicorns, of course. She had never imagined that she would be following a trail of silvery blood through a forest to find one. It was awful to think of something so pure, so innocent being brutalised in such a callous way. How could anyone do that? Hurt something incapable of defending itself? The depth of the anger and sadness she felt surprised her.

“You alright, Hermione?” She heard Hagrid whisper, and realised she’d been sinking further and further into her own mind as they travelled deeper into the forest, “Don’ worry, it can’t’ve gone far if it’s this badly hurt an’ then we’ll be able ter – GET BEHIND THAT TREE!” Hermione’s feet were suddenly lifted up from under her as Hagrid hauled both she and Harry off the path, effectively knocking any reply she might have made from her lungs. They waited behind a towering oak, trying to catch their breath back as Hagrid went to confront the intruder, a crossbow resting threateningly on his right shoulder.

God, if it _was_ a werewolf, even that might not protect them. And there were other things. Worse things she’d read about, creatures that lived in the dark of the forest waiting for unwary prey, horrible repulsive monsters that – wait, what? Hermione felt her mouth open but couldn’t muster the wherewithal to close it again. A man’s torso faded into view, strangely bright in the moonlight, connecting smoothly to the body of a horse covered in gleaming chestnut hair a shade or two darker than the red that grew on his head and face.   
_Centaur_ , her brain supplied, _he’s a centaur_. Somehow she’d not imagined them to be so big. _Or so handsome_ , came that voice again, clearly in shock. Some part of her almost made a joke about gingers but she refused to let it form into anything as solid as words. 

“Oh, it’s you, Ronan,” Said Hagrid, sounding relieved, and Hermione’s shook her head clear.  
  
There followed a conversation as unfathomable as it was fascinating, featuring the arrival of yet another centaur – this one glossy black – from which almost nothing could be gleaned other than the fact that “Mars was unusually bright.” 

Hermione was still trying to mull this over in her head when she spotted something bright shooting up out of the trees some ways away.  
  
“Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!” _If something hurts Neville it’s our fault._ Harry said as much as they waited for the others’ return. To her relief, everyone was intact upon their arrival. They split up once again, but with Harry and Neville switching sides, she suspected because Malfoy would be less likely to scare Harry into a false alarm.

As they walked through the forest, she felt Neville trembling beside her and her heart ached in sympathy. _Oh, Neville. If only you hadn’t been so brave, you’d have never left the Dormitories that night_. Without looking at him, she reached out and took his pudgy hand in her own, giving it a squeeze. He stiffened for a moment, and she felt his steps falter as he reacted – would her push her off? Tell her he still hadn’t forgiven them for what they’d done? – then she felt his fingers give an answering squeeze, and looked up to see his jaw set, an almost smile just visible in the shadows of his face. It was dark and cool and she felt united with him so she just took half a breath and coughed the words up:

“I’m sorry we got you into trouble, Neville.” She did look at him, now, sincerely. He wasn’t as fumbling as he usually was with his reply. Maybe the unity made him brave too. He nodded.  
  
“I know. I’m sorry I believed McGonagall’s story.” Hermione shook her head.  
  
“You couldn’t help it. You were already afraid of it and then…” They understood each other too well for the sentence to need an end. He squeezed her hand again. At least that was one ally she had regained. _Baby steps._

A scream broke through the night. They ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^.^ And thanks again for your patience and understanding <3


	21. Drawing Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is late. You may have noticed I did post this chapter on schedule but it was due to an error on my own part, an earlier (slightly embarassing) draft. So here is ACTUALLY is - please enjoy.

Hermione knew she should be more scared at the thought of Voldemort returning than she was of failing her exams, after what Harry told her and Ron the night of their detention. She was aware that it was more logical to fear death than failure. It was irrational to feel otherwise. And yet, they seemed on par in her mind. If anything, the exams took precedent because, as horrible as what Harry had told them was, it had felt unreal. In the dead of night around the embers of the Gryffindor fire it was a ghost story. This tale about a monster in the woods, drinking the blood of the innocent was just an epilogue to the books in which Harry featured as the last page, defeating Voldemort – _the boy who lived_ – that held no weight in her real, present life. For Harry she knew it must be different. He had seen the unicorn’s corpse. Had talked to Firenze. Saw his own scar every time he looked in the mirror, his history branded onto his forehead, impossible to shake. But Hermione? She had been born into the muggle world. Had grown up in a place where people like Voldemort only existed in stories. Exams, however…

Transfiguration was fine. She managed to turn her mouse into a snuff box on her second try, faster than anyone else, and the two seconds she’d risked looking up into Professor McGonagall’s face gave her a glimpse of approval. Maybe even redemption. Quirrell almost gave everybody the answers with how eager he was to prompt them into the right one, and Professor Flitwick was as comforting and cheery as ever at their prospects. When it came to Potions, however, Hermione felt herself begin to panic. The air was full of fumes – from the forgetfulness potions, _God he was cruel!_ – and it was too warm to breathe, never mind think. _What if I’ve done all this, what if I’ve worked this much, for nothing?_ She barely remembered the last five minutes, hoping that her instinct had carried her through even as Snape sneered at her cauldron. She left even without saying goodbye to Harry and Ron, desperate to get to a cool bathroom. 

“I suppose she thinks she doesn’t need to stay to the end,” Lavender Brown’s voice floated out of the room behind her and she ran faster.

The problem with panic attacks was that after a while they all seemed to meld together, like her whole life had just been one big one. She felt a sense of déjà vu as she looked blearily up at herself in the bathroom mirror. It was Halloween all over again. She’d managed to put the thought that everyone hated her out of her mind for a long time now – focussing on her work – but the pressure of the exam had set every anxious cog and wheel in her brain spinning out of control again. And that comment from Lavender— _is this ever going to end?_ She choked on a gasp, leaning her forehead down on the cool ceramic of the sink.

“Someone in there?” The voice was echoing through the bathroom door – male, presumably, which was why they didn’t just come in. “Hello? You alright?” Hermione tried to take deep breaths.

“Fine,” She rasped out, sounding anything but. There was a moment’s silence.

“Granger?” Two voices, at the same time. _Oh no_. She screwed up her eyes like a little kid trying to make themselves invisible. She heard an indistinct murmur, urgent.

“No, you tosser, she’ll feel cornered if we both-” Urgent murmur.

“Well, that’s _your_ problem isn’t it – Merlin.” A pause. “We not built for this, Freddie.”

This was the last thing she needed, perhaps the most painful example of people who hated her. _Just go away. You don’t care what happens to me anyway, just leave._ _Please just leave._

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to be making those kinds of demands,” He said quietly, at her side. She must have said it out loud. Great, now she couldn’t control her vocal chords as well as her lungs. She felt tears squeezing out from between her tightly shut eyelids and made a sound like a choking whale. This was so tragically embarrassing. _Why now? Why him?_ Her tears were of anger as much as anything else. She felt his arm at her elbow and realised she must have almost fallen, the edges of her vision going dark. With his free hand, he pulled his wand from his back pocket and conjured up a small clear glass.

“ _Aguamenti_. Here. Drink some.” He held it up to her mouth and ignored her half-hearted protest, tipping it up. Her mortification increased as she felt some of it run down her chin, falling down under her shirt, shockingly cold against her overly warm skin. “Sorry – hang on.” He put the glass down on the rim of the sink and she felt him guide her hand to its edge, making sure she had a good grip on it before walking away. In the mirror, she watched as he grabbed some toilet roll from the stall behind her and returned. She took it from his outstretched hand and dabbed it over her face and neck. The water was cooling her down, she realised. And her breathing was slowing back to an acceptable rate.

As the darkness around her field of view dissipated, she slowly became more aware of her situation, most pressingly, of the boy staring at her in the mirror, his hands still slightly outstretched, like he was getting ready for her to fall into his arms.

“Fred,” She said, stupidly, not knowing what else to say. 

“Hermione,” He replied, in the same tone. She couldn’t yet quite place her finger on why it sounded strange.

“This is a girls’ bathroom,” it was the second thing she managed to process, and the words fell out of her mouth unbidden. He breathed through his nose – some pale shadow of a laugh.

“Yes, I did notice. I know we’re not all on your level but I can figure that much out on my own.” She couldn’t tell if this was malicious or not, mocking sarcasm or a return to the rhythm they’d had – what felt like – a long time ago. Hermione stared at his freckled face in the mirror. She was so exhausted. Her eyes closed as a wave of light headedness passed over her, and it took her less than a second to decide she was done inferring and overthinking. She turned, facing him head on.

“Why did you come in?” He ran a hand through his red hair, stalling.

“You know a keep out sign never prevented us from going anywhere,” he said lightly.

“ _Fred._ ” No. No more of this false familiarity.

“What?” He’d heard it in her voice. “I could hear you were distressed so I came in and helped, why is that such a problem for you?” His body had changed, turned slightly away from her so his look of reproach was sent through the corners of his eyes rather than face on. Like he was scared of her. _Good._

“I was under the impression that you couldn’t care less if I was in distress or not,” She was almost proud to hear her voice sounding nearly normal, mustering up her strength.

“Well, how exactly would you know that Granger? You seem pretty hell bent on not telling me about your distress even when it’s for your own good,” not so scared, then. He’d been avoiding this though. He was turning more towards her now, arms coming up to cross over his chest. Right. Fine. They could do this. She was strong enough for it. She was.

“Why would I tell you a damn thing about anything, Fred? You disowned me along with everyone else – rats off a sinking ship, all of you!” Hermione’s hands balled up at her sides. He scoffed, a sound devoid of humour, and she felt the sudden urge to throw her fists at his face.

“Why would you tell me? Maybe because I _asked_ , Granger – I asked and you lied to my face! And don’t you dare tell me we abandoned you, it was _you_ who decided _we_ weren’t worth trusting.” His voice was echoing off the walls, doubling as though his twin was standing beside him. She hesitated for a moment, processing.

“You stopped talking to me after I lost the House Points, just like everyone else,” Her voice dropped a little, and she saw a look of mild confusion pass over his face.

“What?” He said, and his expression turned from confusion to disgust, “ _What?_ You think this because of _House Points_?” The air between them was filled with broken connections, loose ends that wouldn’t join up in her head, no matter how she tried to piece them together. When he realised she wasn’t going to respond, his hands came up again, this time to rub over his face, groaning.

“Merlin, Hermione… the night you guys got caught – I asked you if things were bad, I asked if we could do anything and you just – brushed me off, like I was nothing.”

“I had my reasons for not telling you what we were doing,” She said, her tone steely again. That much she was certain of.

“You know, for someone so smart, you are such an idiot,” He hissed, and she flinched, hackles raising. “Didn’t I already say we didn’t need the details? You were sneaking out at night and you had the services of _Fred and George fucking Weasley_ at your disposal and it didn’t even _cross your mind_ to maybe ask how it’s done?” He was gesticulating wildly now, gesturing to behind him, where she had heard George’s voice.

Her eyebrows shooting upwards, she asked “This is about your hurt pride, is it? Wounded that the little first years didn’t come running to you for help?” She saw his ears go red and recognised the sign of Weasley anger. _Serves you right_.

“Pride doesn’t have anything to do with it Granger,” his voice was weirdly low now, ominous, “we called you _family_ , went out of our way to welcome you in! Do you know what that means to us? And you didn’t even give us the courtesy of telling us the truth.” Two thoughts collided with each other in her head and the air between them grew thick as she dealt with them. As much as she hated to admit it, he might have had a point. No, she’d never have told him – or anyone – the full story, would never have incriminated Hagrid but… _it would have been logical to ask the two most experienced trouble makers we know for help_ , her reason was saying, reluctantly, _they could probably have saved us from meeting Filch_. Looking at him now and remembering their conversation, she knew it was true. He might have asked for the full story but he wouldn’t have pressed the issue if she’d asked him for help without telling him it. It was the other thought, however, which made its way out of her mouth.

“You went out of your way…” It was quiet but he responded anyway, frowning.

“Yeah, we did. We made a point of making you comfortable. We asked mum about making a jumper-”

“You went out of your way to hurt me.” Her voice was louder now. He blanched.

“What?”

“I could have told you,” she said flatly, “I might have told you, if I wasn’t so… panicked about – well - everything. It’s not like you’re unaware that I have a problem with that.” This last part came out more bitterly than she’d intended as she gestured to the sink in front of her, with the glass he’d conjured still sitting on the rim.

“Yeah, you could have.” He agreed, but there wasn’t much of a victory in him at her admission; his eyes were hovering on the conjured glass.

“So I made a mistake, hurt your feelings a bit, maybe” She recapped, quietly, waving her hand vaguely toward his chest, “and then… and then you turned your back on me at the lowest point of my life thus far.” The imbalance in her words made his eyes widen, and he opened his mouth – maybe to defend himself – but once they had started she couldn’t stop them. “I made a bad decision in the heat of the moment. But you? You stewed over my slight, talked about it with George, maybe even Lee and Angie, and made the conscious decision to use our friendship against me. To hurt me. You went out of your way to do that to me, Fred.”

“…Hermione… it wasn’t like that…” His voice was soft now, maybe even pleading. Perhaps he was realising what they’d done. But she was past that. This wasn’t like the fight they’d had in the library. This could not end so well.

“See, I’ve figured it out, now,” She said, almost conversationally, wiping the residual tears from her eyes, the corners of her mouth turning up ruefully.

“What?” He frowned at her, his mouth slightly open.

“I figured out why it sounded so odd earlier when you said my name – it was _Hermione_ , not _Granger_.” He shrugged like he hadn’t even thought about it. Which he probably hadn’t.

“Maybe we’d have gotten there at some point, Fred, but - you should stick to Granger.”

“C’mon, Hermione, we don’t need to make this much of a deal about this,” He was trying to keep his voice steady but it still came out like a question.

“I’m not angry, Fred,” She assured him, and was kind of surprised to find she believed it, “Just… trying to do you the courtesy of telling you the truth.” He half-flinched, and she realised she was twisting his words back onto him. _Well, there’s no going back now_. “I don’t think it can be how it was after this. It’s like George said – outside,” He shook his head, almost like a tick, “I wasn’t built for this. For getting over this. I’m sorry.” And she meant it.

“You’re talking with Longbottom again,” He said abruptly. Her eyebrows shot up.

“What has Neville got to do with this?” She watched him wet his lips before speaking again.

“You’re saying you can’t forgive me but you can forgive him? What’s the difference? I heard he was being a right prat to you too.” _Oh good, so you admit you behaved like a prat._ She tucked hair behind her ear to give her hands something to do.

“Neville acted the way he did because he was scared and hurt, Fred,” Hermione said, the words tasting sour in her mouth. How could he compare the two? “You did what you did out of spite.”

He made an indignant choking noise in the back of his throat.

“And how d’you figure that, Granger? You reckon I can’t feel hurt? I was angry, I wasn’t thinking-”

“Please don’t ask me to feel sorry for you, Fred,” She snapped, surprising herself and him, “I can’t do it, okay? I _won’t_ do that for someone who didn’t- who made me feel-” She tried to find an appropriate word but for once they failed her, her voice cracking as tears sprang back into her eyes unbidden. It seemed to sober him.

“Hermione, it wasn’t like- I didn’t know- you can’t think I’d purposely- if I knew it was going to end up like…” He gestured to the both of them, his hands encapsulating everything that stood between them, the immovable barriers that they’d created.

“You shouldn’t have had to have known,” She said, sharply, “if you’d really meant any of what you’d said-” Her voice caught in her throat. _Don’t cry, Hermione._

“I was just angry, Hermione, it was just a couple days of being angry. After that… I don’t know, it was hard to… to know that you didn’t trust us.” She pressed her lips together, trying to hold in her reply but it came out anyway.

“Well, it looks like I was right not to rely on you.” He really did flinch now. She almost expected him to snap something back. For the fight to start all over again. Instead, she watched as he swallowed it back, hard, glaring at the floor until the blood had started to retreat from his cheeks again. Hermione waited, willing herself not to cry.

“So what?” He asked, finally, his voice slightly hoarse, “I’m supposed to pretend that we don’t know each other anymore?” He said it like it was impossible, like they hadn’t both been doing it for weeks now.

“I’m not asking you to be a stranger,” she said, and then forced herself to look him dead in the eye, “I’m telling you we can’t… we can’t be family.” _You shouldn’t feel guilty about this_ , she reminded herself, as she watched his mouth open and his eyes stare, wounded, into hers, _you don’t owe him a thing_. When he managed to speak again, it wasn’t another denial, but something calm, akin to resignation.

“Right. Yeah. ‘Course.” She refused to look away first, although she had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing her at all, his eyes unfocussed. Then, without warning, he stuck his hand out, looking bizarrely like Percy. It was her turn to stare blankly. “C’mon, Granger, show a guy a little mercy – I don’t want to leave feeling like we’ve killed something.” For a second she could see blood on both their hands, in the moment of pain she caught in his eyes - and then it passed. Already, she could feel herself standing on steadier ground.

“Okay,” _A handshake. I can do that much_. She reached out and let him wrap his fingers around her hand. He gave it a firm shake and without looking away, called out:

“Alright, you can emerge from the shadows, now!” 

Hermione wasn’t even surprised when George stepped into the doorway.

“It’s hardly the shadows, mate – you’re the one lurking about a girls’ toilet preying on the vulnerable. Do I get a handshake, too, Granger?” He made it sound like a tease but she heard the note of uncertainty in his voice. Neither of them could pretend he hadn’t been involved in the tensions of the previous weeks. He noticed her hesitating and stepped closer, level with his brother. “I’m sorry too, you know? I should never have let this twat persuade me that we were justified in how we acted.” 

Fred sent him a sideways look but didn’t object to the assessment. His hand was still holding hers. She pried it away gently, and then held it out to George.

“I don’t want to be enemies anymore.” She said firmly.

“So I heard,” and they touched palms briefly.

The anger that had filled the space around them earlier had dissipated, but the awkwardness was by no means gone. Once they’d become clear on where they all stood in terms of their relationship, Hermione began to take in where they stood physically.

“Maybe you should leave the girls’ bathroom now,” Said George with a nudge to Fred’s side, clearly thinking along the same lines as Hermione.

“What?” The latter had been staring absently at the glass that still stood on the edge of the sink, and she frowned as she followed his gaze.

“I said: Shall we stop loitering about in a girls’ bathroom, Freddie?” George repeated like he was talking to a senile uncle.

“Do you want to take it with you?” Hermione asked, going to grab the cup from the sink. Fred put out an arm to stop her a fraction of a second too late and knocked it out of her hand. The glass fell to the floor and shattered, shards skidding along the tiled floor around their shoes. Hermione gasped and felt Fred’s fingers curl around the sleeve of her school cardigan, pushing her away from the site of impact as he and George stepped back. She was stunned for a second by the sheer suddenness of it, the finality with which it had broken.

“Well, that was dramatic,” said George, lightly, pulling his wand from his pocket and vanishing the pieces. Hermione couldn’t understand why she felt the heavy weight of loss as the remains of the glass disappeared, and stayed silent while she tackled her emotions.

“And now we really should go.” Fred managed to meet her eyes one more time before his twin marched him out of the room.

“See you later then, Granger?” Hermione hated the uncertainty in his voice. She gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded.

“Sure. Later.” The corner of his robe whipped around the doorway and Hermione saw nothing more of either of them at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? *holds breath*


	22. Making Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As exams end, our heros finally put the pieces together on Snape's terrible plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Do you remember me? I that girl what was writing this fic, eons ago. 
> 
> Yes, it's true - the hiatus is over. I took a break for NaNoWriMo, as you may have noticed, and wanted a little bit of a break from writing after that, but I am back and as mediocre as ever! We'll finish up this book before Christmas, hopefully. And then we can all move on with our lives.

With the end of her enmity with the Weasley twins and the rest of the school too focussed on their final exams to continue harassing her, Hermione managed to finish up the exam season in relative peace. Their last one was History of Magic, and despite her uncontrollable impulse to discuss the questions as soon as they got out of the warmth of the classroom, she was able to let it rest when Ron, not unkindly, told he’d vomit if she mentioned Elfric the Eager one more time. She could always bring it up again when their results came out next week.

“Lake?” Both Hermione and Ron nodded at Harry’s suggestion and they made their way out into the sunshine, made even more glorious now that they weren’t carrying the weight of a dozen textbooks on their backs. They flopped down under their usual tree and Hermione let out a long sigh, her eyes closing. _She’d done it._ When her eyelids fluttered apart again a moment later, she felt her body brace for some kind of impact before she even registered why.  
  
On the opposite bank of the lake, Fred and George Weasley were lounging around with Lee Jordon. All had shed their cloaks and Fred’s sleeves were rolled up past his elbows as he leant over to tickle the giant squid, basking in the shallows. The twins were both watching her with uncertain eyes, but neither of them looked away when she met their gaze. She waited to feel something, like fear or guilt or regret. But it didn’t come. Her muscles relaxed. _She was okay. ___She smiled. Fred’s head tipped ever so slightly to the side before turning to his twin. They shared a look that she couldn’t interpret from this distance and then turn identical beaming grins back at her.

“Oi, Ron!” George yelled from across the lake, and Hermione felt her friend’s shoulders jump next to her.  
  
“What?!” He shouted back.  
  
“You finished failing everything, then?” Fred gestured to the castle behind them. Hermione suspected that on any other day, Ron’s insecurities would have meant he’d have really been bothered by this. As it was, he merely grinned back at his brothers and said, cheerily:  
  
“Yep!” She heard them laugh and shake their heads as they turned back to Lee and the squid.  
Ron sighed happily and stretched back on the grass. 

“No more revision,” He said, voice dreamily light. There was a pause, and Hermione opened her eyes again to look at him. “You could look more cheerful, Harry, we’ve got a week before we find out how badly we’ve done, there’s no need to worry yet.” Hermione frowned. Harry was rubbing his forehead, and she realised she’d been so caught up in her own relief that she hadn’t noticed that none of it could be seen in him. 

“I wish I knew what this _means!_ ” He burst out angrily. “My scar keeps hurting – it’s happened before, but never as often as this.”  
  
“Go to Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested.  
  
“I’m not ill,” said Harry, “I think it’s a warning… it means danger’s coming.” Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Ron, too, seemed to think he was getting worked up over nothing.  
  
“Harry, relax, Hermione’s right,” She raised her eyebrows but waited to see what he was referring to in particular, “the stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s around.” The stone. She’d almost forgotten. “Anyway, we’ve never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he’s not going to try it again in a hurry.” All good reasoning, Hermione nodded along, “And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down.” Ron added firmly. Even Harry gave a smile at this, although Hermione could see he was still uneasy. 

“I just feel like…” He tried to explain, words slow and tangled, “like I’ve forgotten something. Something really important.” She would have recognised that emotion anywhere.  
  
“That’s just the exams,” She said comfortingly, “I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we’d done that one.” Harry still didn’t look convinced but Ron gave an appreciative laugh.  
  
“Well that’s just your own personal brand of barminess, isn’t it?” He said, the deliriously happy smile still spread across his face. Hermione pursed her lips together but it was impossible not to respond in kind.  
  
“I suppose so,” She said, humouring him, “Harry’s paranoid about his scar, you’re irrationally obsessed with Quidditch, I’m a compulsive reviser, Hagrid suffers from delusions that dragons are safe and –” 

Harry jumped to his feet with a suddenness that cut her insanity index off abruptly.  
  
“Where’re you going?” Ron said sleepily.  
  
“I’ve just thought of something.” Said Harry. Hermione swallowed her reprimand as she saw how white he’d gone. “We’ve got to go see Hagrid. Now.” He had already marched ten feet away by the time she stood, Ron sliding sideways as the shoulder he’d been resting his head on moved from under him.  
  
“Why?” She panted, hurrying to keep up.  
  
“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,” said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, “That what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket?” Hermione’s continued to keep pace with him even as the gears in her brain began slowing down, shifting and clicking into place. “How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don’t you think? Why didn’t I see it before?”  
  
“What are you on about?” Ron had finally managed to reluctantly catch up, it seemed. But neither Harry nor Hermione answered him, as the former began sprinting across the grounds towards the forest. 

*

It didn’t take long for them to extract the truth from Hagrid. As loyal as he was, after he’d been bought a few drinks and had that long-coveted egg flashed at him from under a cloak… well. At least now they knew the truth. The evidence had mounted up beyond doubt. Snape was going to try to steal the stone, and now that he knew how to get past Fluffy… the rest would be easy for him.

“What are you three doing inside?” Hermione turned from the tight huddle they’d unconsciously become and saw Professor McGonagall striding across the Entrance Hall, carrying a large pile of books. Hermione ignored the trembling of her fingers and took a deep breath. This was the fastest way to get to where they needed.

“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” She said, calmly.

“See Professor Dumbledore?” McGonagall’s eyes narrowed as she repeated the name. “Why?” Before Hermione could think of a reasonable excuse, Harry blurted out:

“It’s sort of a secret.” She knew it had been the wrong thing to say immediately, and had her suspicions confirmed as she watched their Head of House’s glare turn to Harry, nostrils flaring.

“Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” She said coldly. “He received an urgent own from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.” Hermione felt a heavy weight sink in her stomach.

“He’s _gone_?” Said Harry frantically, “ _Now?_ ”

Hermione tuned out the Professor’s reiterating how busy the Headmaster was, and failed to react even to Harry’s hasty declaration that they knew about the Philosopher’s Stone. McGonagall dropped her stack of books but Hermione sensed immediately that she would not drop her resolve. If Snape’s plans were going to be thwarted tonight, it wouldn’t be by his fellow teachers. As McGonagall left, they huddled back together. Clearly Harry was thinking the same thing she was.

“It’s tonight,” He said, firmly, “Snape’s going through the trapdoor tonight.” The urgent note from the Ministry must have been him, to get Dumbledore out of the way.  
  
“But what can we –” Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat as she caught sight of Snape looming over them. She felt the boys on either side of her wheel around to face him.  
  
“Good afternoon,” He said smoothly, and a creeping cold crawled up Hermione’s spine. When none of them replied, he continued, in that painfully slow drawl, “You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this,” his mouth twisted into an odd smile.  
  
“We were –” Whatever Harry was going to say, he didn’t get to it.  
  
“You want to be more careful,” Snape cut him off, “Hanging around like this, people will think you’re up to something. And Gryffindor really can’t afford to lose any more points, can they?”Hermione bristled, sure his eyes lingered on hers, maliciously. Next to her, she felt Harry’s hands curl into fists, and reached out her own, tugging him gently. They all turned to go back outside, but Snape called them back.  
  
“Be warned, Potter – any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.”  
  
_Expelled,_ Hermione thought as the word echoed around her skull. Her fingers tightened around both Harry’s and Ron’s sleeves. _Not on my watch._  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And for your patience. And your kudos and comments and e v e r y t h i n g. They're are all very much appreciated <3


	23. With Allies Like This, Who Needs Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans made, plans failed, plans made again. Some loyalties are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days in a row because I kind of missed writing this story and now I can't stop. Enjoy!

The plan was this: Hermione would keep an eye on Snape, waiting outside the staff room, while Harry and Ron guarded the third floor corridor. They would know exactly when Snape decided to make his move and be able to chase him down. Hermione had momentarily questioned why she was being assigned to the staff room mission alone when the boys were breaking off together, but while Ron’s justification included a mocking imitation – _“Oh Professor Flitwick, I’m so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong…!”_ – it didn’t indicate that they were planning on doing something stupid without her. _And I can’t fault his logic_ , she thought grudgingly as she made her way down the by now familiar route to the staff room, _it’s not like I avoid this place._

She was among the only ones who didn’t. Most students tended to rush through the corridor where the staff room was located as fast as they could, no doubt trying to delay the wrath of teachers they owed homework to and the like. But Hermione had never had that problem. No, she thought of Snape, of the Philosopher’s Stone and what he meant to do with it, her problems with teachers went much deeper than missed deadlines. She’d have never believed it at the beginning of the year. Even a month ago, she’d still been arguing with Ron and Harry about the likelihood that a teacher, _a Hogwarts teacher,_ would be attempting to bring Voldemort back. But now… well, she’d learnt a lot.

“Miss Granger,” For the second time that day, the dreaded voice sent ice into her soul. She swallowed hard and turned to face him.  
  
“Professor Snape,” She said, in what she hoped was a polite voice, and tried to smile innocently up at him. She doubted that it was convincing but, judging from the grimace of half smugness half disgust he returned, he wasn’t one to be judging on believable facial expressions.  
  
“What,” He asked coolly, “May I ask, are you doing loitering outside of the staff room? I have already spoken to you once today about lingering in places you should not be.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” She said, laughing airily, “Of course I wouldn’t be here otherwise, but I was just waiting for Professor Flitwick.”  
  
“Professor Flitwick?” Snape said the name as though it were a disease.  
  
“I had some concerns, sir, about the Charms exam,” Her memory flashed back to Ron’s suggestion and it didn’t take much to sell it, “There was this question on pronunciation versus magical intention, you see, and –”

Hermione tried to keep the smug satisfaction off of her face as he raised a hand, clearly bored to the point of physical pain.  
  
“Professor Flitwick will be enthralled by your concerns I’m sure,” He said sarcastically, “There is no need to waste them on me.” She pursed her lips, waiting for him to leave.  
  
“Clearly you’re in dire need of attention. Remain here while I call the Professor out.”  
  
“No!” The protest burst from Hermione’s mouth before she had a chance to stop it, and she felt the blood rush to her face as he raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “I mean –” She said, taking a hurried breath, “There’s no need to bother him. I can wait until he’s done in there.” A cold smirk spread over Snape’s face and Hermione knew instinctively that he knew the real reason why she was there.  
  
“Nonsense,” He said, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice, “I’m sure Professor Flitwick can put his card game with Professor Sprout on hold for a moment. He wouldn’t want you to be left worried.”

She forced her mouth up into a smile and thanked him, even as he went back into the room. _Oh God,_ she thought, _what am I supposed to do now?_  
  
Snape would no doubt disappear the moment she was distracted by Professor Flitwick, and then she would have no way of knowing where he was. She was responsible for this part of the plan, it had to go well or she risked… everything. Her mind, unbidden, was flashing back to the night they’d smuggled Norbert out of the castle, the stupidity that had led them to leaving the invisibility cloak behind, ruining almost everything. Her breathing got shorter. _Not now,_ she begged her lungs, her mind, _please, not now._  
  
“Granger?” She wheeled around to find herself face to face with Fred Weasley, his hand outstretched as though he’d been about to tap her on the shoulder. Even as she stared at him, stunned, he seemed to rethink it, the offending limb retreating. She blinked and registered that George was there too, at his brother’s shoulder. They were living breathing déjà vu. _Déjà vu._

“You alright?”  
  
“Fred. George.” She breathed, and it felt like an answer to her prayers.  
  
“Yes, those are our names,” George said, quirking an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t have time to respond to his joking. There was no time for anything at all.  
  
“I need a distraction,” She blurted, eyes fixed on Fred’s. His mouth slanted into a slightly quizzical smile and he opened his mouth, no doubt to make some innuendo. “Something that will get Flitwick away,” She rethought even as she spoke, “Or as many teachers as you can get, actually.” The humour was sliding from Fred’s face.  
  
“Granger, what –?”  
  
“You said you didn’t need the details,” she hissed, her head snapping to the staff room door as it creaked open, voices becoming audible from inside. “I need your help. Now.”

“Here you are, Miss Granger,” Snape drawled as he exited into the hallway, “One charms Professor, signed sealed and delivered.” The cold smirk grew suspicious as he caught sight of the Weasley twins, but when Hermione looked back at them she saw their faces as blank as slates.  
“ _Weasleys._ ” He almost spat, “I’m sure you’d much rather be elsewhere – I understand you’ve got a fair amount of dues to be paid in this particular corridor.” Hermione watched, eyes desperate, as they shared an impenetrable look. She saw the fabric of Fred’s school shirt wrinkle as he rolled his shoulders as though loosening them for a fight.  
  
“Yes,” He said calmly, “I suppose we do.” And without either of them meeting her eyes again, they’d gone.

Were they going to help her? Would her rushed request be enough to persuade them, after all that had passed between them? _Well,_ she thought, _whatever happens now is beyond my control._ She rearranged her features into a neutral expression and turned her attention to the small man at Snape’s side.  
  
“Professor Flitwick,” She said brightly, “Thank you so much for coming out to see me.”  
  
“Not at all, Miss Granger, not at all. Professor Snape tells me you’ve been having some worries about the exam…?” Even as he spoke she watched the man in question begin to amble away, sending her a self-satisfied smirk as he rounded the corner. She felt a violent desire to kick him in his injured leg but watched him go without reaction, trying to seem focussed on Flitwick’s conversation.

As helpful as he’d always been, Hermione wished ardently now that he was less willing to discuss things with her. Even after he quelled her imaginary fears about the exam, he was eager to continue the conversation, asking her about the advanced reading she’d mentioned in passing. It must have been at least five minutes now, any chance she had of tailing Snape was slipping from her grasp… and there was no help in sight. As if on cue, Neville came jogging up the stairs, cutting the Charms professor off in the middle of a Gilderoy Lockhart recommendation.

“Longbottom? What is it?” He was doubled up on the landing, red as a tomato. He’d clearly run a long way.  
  
“It’s the bathrooms sir! By the Entrance Halls!”  
  
“What about the bathrooms, Longbottom? Details, please!” Flitwick was clearly alarmed by Neville’s demeanour, along with Hermione.  
  
“Sir –”For a moment it seemed Neville was unsure how to word his testimony, and Hermione could almost feel the tension rolling of Professor Flitwick’s tiny body, “– they’re… exploding.”

For a second, there was stunned silence. Then, with the air of someone who had worked in Hogwarts for far too long, Flitwick turned slowly to Hermione.  
  
“I’m very sorry, Miss Granger, but I think we’ll have to cut our meeting short. I’ll have to go deal with this as soon as possible.” Hermione was backing away before he’d even finished the sentence, waving away his apologies as Professor McGonagall rounded the corner, looking even more severe than usual.  
  
“Minerva!” She heard Professor Flitwick say, “I think you’d better come with me – exploding toilets, I hear…” She just caught the distinct words Weasley and boys before they faded from earshot. Well they agreed on that at least. It seemed as though Fred and George still thought she was worth helping. 

Not that it did much good. After power walking down the corridors and asking three separate strangers if they’d seen Professor Snape, she finally accepted defeat. He’d gone. Well, she thought, at least Harry and Ron are still guarding the trapdoor. When she climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor Common Room however, it was to see both of them standing on the other side, and their dejected expressions mirrored hers as they caught sight of her.

They explained their failures to each other – it seemed that Harry and Ron were the cause of the bad mood Hermione had seen in McGonagall – and sank into the fireside sofa.  
  
“Well that’s it then, isn’t it?” Harry said. Hermione and Ron both stared at him. “I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try to get to the stone first.” She opened her mouth to shoot him down but Ron got there first.  
  
“You’re mad!”  
  
“You can’t!” She added vehemently, “After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You’ll be expelled!” She had to keep them all safe, had to make sure none of Snape’s threats came to fruition, had to – 

“SO WHAT?” It was the first time she’d seen him really angry, and it terrified the breath out of her, “Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold of the stone, Voldemort’s coming back! Haven’t you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over?” Hermione bristled at the idea that she wouldn’t have read several books on it. Of course she knew –  
  
“There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He’ll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts!” Harry shook his head in frustration, “Losing points doesn’t matter any more, can’t you see? D’you think he’ll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor win the House Cup?”  
  
Hermione flushed, and Harry’s voice dropped in volume, hardening with resolve. “If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I’ll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there. It’s only dying a bit later than I would have done, because I’m never going over to the Dark Side!” As thought they’d suggested he would! “I’m going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?”

She realised once again, with a wave of shame, that this was more than textbooks to him, more than a story. It was his life, his trauma, the reason he couldn’t go home for Christmas. And it wasn’t staying in the past, either. She took a deep breath shaking off her own embarrassment and the sense that maybe she wasn’t as mature as she’d thought she was.  
  
“You’re right, Harry.” It came out quiet, but her voice didn’t shake. He seemed to accept it as a sort of apology, nodding.  
  
“I’ll use the Invisibility Cloak,” He said, “It’s lucky I got it back.”  
  
“But will it cover all three of us?” Said Ron. Hermione watched the confused shock drown out the last of the anger on Harry’s face.  
  
“All – all three of us?” Oh, Harry, please. Ron seemed to be thinking along the same lines.  
  
“Oh, come off it, you don’t think we’d let you go alone?” Their mutual friend’s eyebrows knitted together; this was seemingly terribly hard to understand.  
  
“Of course not,” She said firmly, “How do you think you’d get to the Stone without us?” If you’re not even bright enough to figure it out yet that we’re in this together, “I’d better go and look through my books, there might be something useful…” Without waiting for him to respond, she was on her feet, suddenly full of purpose.

“But if we get caught,” Harry said slowly, his eyes finding hers in particular, “you two will be expelled too.” She met his gaze steadily and tucked an errant curl of hair behind her ear. He at least had the decency to look gratified as she responded, in her most steely voice:  
  
“Not if I can help it. Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve per cent on his exam. They’re not throwing me out after that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments really make my day *hint hint*


	24. The Dark Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio fall down a rabbithole and wish they'd ended up in Wonderland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo there. Listen, I'm - I mean I could say - I've had - there have been a lot of - you see, a university degree - I needed - oh fuck it, here's the damn chapter.

For the first time, Hermione, Ron and Harry were glad that no one in their house was talking to them. It meant that, after dinner, as they waited nervously in the common room, no one bothered them. Hermione in particular was using the time to skim through all of her notes at once. She willed herself to absorb as much information as possible from them – there was no knowing what they’d need knowledge of to get past whatever was protecting the stone. Any little thing could help. She glanced at the clock that stood by the door and felt her heart speed up. They needed to be going soon but… She glanced over at the table that was usually taken by the Weasley twins and their various third year friends. Lee Jordan was still sitting there, looking as impatient as she felt. Hermione glanced at the boys and saw that their eyes too, were bouncing between the last loiterer and the clock. She licked her lips and then elbowed Harry. He jumped nervously.

“What?” Hermione raised her eyebrows pointedly in Lee’s direction and elbowed him again. After a moment of hesitation, he seemed to come to a decision. Hermione knew what he was thinking. Weighing up the need to leave soon, and in secret, against his desire not to have any more arguments with anyone in their House. But they had all decided where their priorities lay, and Harry was nothing if not brave.

“Hey, Lee?” Hermione heard his voice crack but kept her eyes firmly on her textbook. She silently sent him positive thoughts. He cleared his throat. “How come you’re down here all alone?” For a moment there was silence, as though Lee was refusing to answer. Hermione couldn’t help but look up. He was sitting at the table, his head cocked towards them, fingers twisting around each other anxiously. He pressed his lips together for a second, seemingly considering whether he should talk to them at all but – Hermione reasoned – it wasn’t as though anyone else was around to see.  
  
“Well,” He started, and Hermione turned back to her textbook, “I was waiting for Fred and George to come back.” Ron’s ears seemed to prick at this, and Hermione felt him shift next to her.  
  
“Come back from where?”  
  
“You didn’t hear? They made the toilets by the Entrance Hall explode every time anyone walks in.” Both Harry and Ron laughed incredulously and Hermione wondered briefly how she’d omitted this from her story.  
  
“What, really?” Lee nodded, a grin pulling up one side of his face.  
  
“Thing is, we’d planned to do it next week. Timing was essential to avoid getting caught.” He shrugged, baffled, “I don’t know why they’d set it off early, or what’s going on now. I reckon McGonagall’s got them, but I got no clue what she’d have them doing that would be taking this long.” He glanced at the clock himself now, and gave a start. With a yawn he stood up. “I guess there’s no point waiting any longer. They’ll come back when they come back. If they’ve not been expelled.”

As he shuffled away up the stairs, Hermione felt her stomach twist in guilt. What if she was the cause of Fred and George’s expulsion?  
  
“Better get the cloak,” Ron muttered, and she forced herself to bring her attention back to the plan. _Priorities_ , she reminded herself. 

When Harry returned with the cloak, however, they ran into yet another obstacle: namely, Neville Longbottom, appearing from behind an armchair, clutching his toad.  
  
“What are you doing?” Hermione felt the boys on either side of her tense up. This was the last thing they needed.  
  
“Nothing, Neville, nothing,” said Harry, and Hermione saw him try to hide the cloak behind his back. But Neville was nowhere near that dim.  
  
“You’re going out again,” he said.  
  
“No, no, no,” Hermione insisted, “No, we’re not. Why don’t you go to bed, Neville?” She knew it was useless even as she spoke the words, saw Harry glance at the clock again from the corner of her eye. They might have wasted too much time already. Snape could have already descended through the trapdoor by now…  
  
“You can’t go out. You’ll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble.” The worst thing was that she recognised the argument Neville was making, could remember voicing it herself. But the time was gone for that kind of thinking, as Harry had so aggressively reminded her earlier.  
  
“You don’t understand,” He said to Neville now, “this is important.” There wasn’t enough time to explain things to him and he seemed intent on doing something ridiculous anyway.  
  
“I won’t let you do it!” Hermione watched, astonished, as he scrambled to block the way to the portrait hole. “I’ll – I’ll fight you!”  
  
“Neville!” Ron exploded, “get away from that hole and don’t be an idiot – ” But Neville seemed possessed of a nerve she’d never seen in him before.  
  
“Don’t you call me an idiot!” He shouted over Ron, “I don’t think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!” You couldn’t fault him – Hermione remembered the night he and Harry had worked together to bolster Neville’s self-confidence for more than one reason.  
  
“Yes, but not to us,” Ron said in exasperation, “Neville, you don’t know what you’re doing.” He too seemed ready to do something drastic, stepping up to the other boy. Hermione’s breath stopped in her throat as Neville dropped Trevor and raised his fists.  
  
“Go on then, try and hit me!” He cried, “I’m ready!” Hermione wondered whether Ron could do it, if he’s really raise his hand to poor old Neville if it meant getting to Snape in time.

As it was, she never got a chance to find out. She felt Harry’s hand on her shoulder and caught the desperation in his face as he looked between her and the clock.  
  
“Do something,” He pleaded. Hermione blinked at him and felt her muscles respond to his request even before she realised what she meant to do. She stepped forward into an attacking stance.  
  
“Neville,” she said, “I’m really, really sorry about this.” And she was. But they had no more time to waste on on explanations and trivialities. She raised he wand. “Petrificus Totalus!” She cried, pointing it at Neville.

For a second she wondered if it had somehow backfired, her own limbs locked in position as Neville turned rigid before falling onto his face. But no, she could move – she had to move now. They all did. She ran over to him, flipping him onto his back, trying and failing not to see the horror in his eyes as he looked at her. I’ll apologize later, she promised herself, when all this is over, I’ll –  
  
“What’ve you done to him?” Harry whispered.  
  
“It’s the full Body-Bind” said Hermione, and felt her insides twist as she acknowledged that this was worse than what Draco Malfoy had done to him the night he’s fallen miserably through the portrait hole. “Oh, Neville, I’m so sorry.” But once again, Harry was firm beside her.  
  
“We had to, Neville,” He said, “No time to explain.” We. They were in this together. They had good reasons. Hermione was not Draco Malfoy.  
  
“You’ll understand later, Neville,” said Ron, and they stepped over his prone body and pulled on the invisibility cloak.

*

When they got to the third-floor corridor, the door was already ajar. It was clear that they were already too late to catch Snape in the act. He had already descended.

“If you want to go back, I won’t blame you,” Harry said, irritatingly noble, “You can take the cloak, I won’t need it now.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“We’re coming.”

No more words were wasted.

It was Harry who played the flute to put the enormous creature to sleep. Hagrid’s wisdom didn’t fail them, Fluffy’s eyes began drooping at the very first note, and within seconds it was slumped on the ground, fast asleep.

“Want to go first, Hermione?” She threw Ron a withering look.

“No, I don’t!”

“All right.” He said, and pulled the trapdoor open.

“What can you see?” She breathed anxiously, her eyes still counting Fluffy’s breaths, making sure he showed no signs of stirring.

“Nothing.” Said Ron, grimly, “Just black. There’s no way of climbing down, we’ll just have to drop.” Hermione’s stomach did just that. But of course, it was Harry who volunteered to make the leap. Hermione wiped the flute quickly on her robes before picking up where he’d left off, playing something she vaguely remembered from long ago recorder lessons.

Harry fell with a soft-sounding FLUMP and confirmed that he wasn’t hurt. Ron followed, and Hermione listened carefully to make sure he too landed softly.  
  
“What’s this stuff?” Came his voice, echoing from however far down below the trapdoor they were.  
  
“Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it’s here to break the fall.” Harry’s voice replied, “Come on, Hermione!”  
  
She played a final few notes, backing away from Fluffy and towards the trapdoor as far as she dared to. Then, she pulled the flute from her mouth, took a deep breath and leapt down, even as Fluffy awoke with a bark behind her.

She fell further than she thought she would, but there was indeed something soft and vaguely slimy to break her fall at the bottom.  
  
“We must be miles under the school,” she said, but even as she spoke, more pressing issues became apparent, as she felt something begin wrapping around her ankle. She kicked wildly as Ron replied, blissfully ignorant:  
  
“Lucky this plant thing’s here, really,”  
  
“ _Lucky!_ ” Hermione shrieked, “Look at you both!” She half ran, half swam towards the closest wall of the chamber. Harry and Ron had both finally realised the danger they were in, and were struggling against the reaching, clinging vines. But Hermione’s whirring mind had been moving even faster than her legs. She’d finally recognised what they had landed on.

“Stop moving!” Hermione ordered them. “I know what this is – it’s Devil’s Snare!”  
  
“Oh, I’m so glad we know what it’s called, that’s a great help,” snarled Ron, and Hermione almost wished that the tendril currently trying to strangle him succeeded.  
  
“Shut up” She bit back, “I’m trying to remember how to kill it!”  
  
"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.  
  
"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say?” She knew this, she knew this. She was book smart, and book smart could save them here, if she could just… “It likes the dark and the damp!”  
  
"So light a fire!" Harry choked.  
  
"Yes -- of course -- but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, and she could feel her breath getting shorter.  
  
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"  
  
Then again, book smart might need a little help on occasion. 

One of the first spells she’d ever learnt: the cold fire or, as she’d come to call it in her own head, the Bluebell Flames. It came easily once the thought had been planted – a little rudely – by Ron. The plant released its holds on the boys and they both managed to get loose and join Hermione by the wall.  
  
"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.  
  
"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis -- _'there's no wood,'_ honestly." Hermione flushed but Harry wasn’t going to let them linger on each other’s failings.  
  
"This way," he said, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

*

The flying keys seemed almost meant as a test of Harry’s talents. Hermione and Ron helped corral the insect-like things, of course, but it was Harry – youngest seeker in a century – who actually closed his fist around its fluttering wings. Next came the chess board.

“Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess –" Ron started, but Hermione was rolling her eyes before he’d even finished the sentence – _like she hadn’t worked it out from his constantly defeating her_ – but Harry never let him get to the end.

“We’re not offended,” he cut over Ron, “Just tell us what to do.”

And he did.

Hermione could hardly breathe, standing there next to the other pieces like a soldier in an army, watching her comrades get taken one by one by the white pieces. She had to hand it to him though, if she was being forced to fight this odd, monochrome war, Ron wasn’t a bad general to serve under. As far as she could tell, anyway. There were moments when she doubted him, like the first time they lost a piece. The white queen smashed the knight to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay, facedown. The first casualty of the war. She dragged her eyes away from the prone figure to look questioningly at Ron.

“Had to let that happen,” he said, even as his own face looked haunted by the loss, “Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione.” She stared at him. “Go on.” Right. Her. She stepped forward three squares and the bishop toppled sideways before rolling off the board. Soldier. Warrior. Hermione Granger. 

They kept going like this for a while. If she focussed, Hermione could just about follow what Ron was trying to do, and even when she was confused, she kept her mouth shut. He knew what he was doing, she reminded herself, even as he snatched Harry from danger, he needed to focus. Then…

“It’s the only way… I’ve got to be taken.”  
  
“No!” Harry and Hermione shouted in unison.  
  
“That’s chess!” snapped Ron. “You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she’ll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!”  
  
“But –" Hermione could hear the horror in Harry’s voice, and felt her own eyes filling up with tears. They had no idea how the queen would treat a human piece. No idea if Ron would survive. Hermione glanced over at that first fallen knight, his body dead still on the floor.  
  
“Do you want to stop Snape or not?”  
  
“Ron –"  
  
“Look, if you don’t hurry up, he’ll already have the Stone!” Hermione tried to take deep breaths, tried to slow her heart down. This wasn’t about them – any of them. It was about Snape.  
  
“Priorities,” She whispered to herself, bitterly.  
  
“Ready?” Ron called, his face pale but determined, “Here I go – now, don’t hang around once you’ve won.”  
  
He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but kept her feet rooted to her square. She had to stay put, or his sacrifice meant nothing. As the white queen dragged Ron to one side, she felt a wave of relief as she saw that he was at least still breathing. She turned and locked gazes with Harry, who looked like he might faint himself. He didn’t, of course. Instead, like the hero he was, he took the white king’s crown and ended the game.

*

Another troll, luckily already conked out. Hermione counted off the teachers in her head.

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

When the next room was revealed as a table of potions, something started niggling in the back of Hermione’s mind, but she soon had other things to focus on. The riddle they found on the scroll of paper next to the bottles was long and complicated, but even as she read it, Hermione felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

“Brilliant,” She said, looking up to see Harry’s bemused face, “This isn’t magic – it’s logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here forever.”  
  
“But so will we, won’t we?” Hermione frowned at him, still half smiling.  
  
“Of course not,” she said, “everything we need is here on this paper.”  
  
If the keys had been a task for Harry, and the chessboard perfectly suited to Ron’s talents, this chamber had her name written all over it. _I know what I’m doing_ , she realised, her heart swelling, _I’ve got this one._

She read the riddle again, slowly walking around the table, moving the cups forward and backward depending on what she knew about them. It was simple, really.  
  
"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- toward the Stone." Harry looked at the tiny bottle.  
  
"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."  
  
They looked at each other, and Hermione felt her heart sink as quickly as it had swelled. She could already see the resolve in his eyes, already knew what he was going to say.  
  
"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" Reluctantly, she pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line. "You drink that," said Harry, and then, when she opened her mouth to argue, he continued:  
  
"No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy -- go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

What he was saying made sense. It was like they’d all been saying – sacrifices, priorities, logic. Except.  
  
"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?" That was one sacrifice they’d never discuss, one she never wanted to consider  
  
"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. 231 "I might get lucky again." She realised, looking at him now, that he _had_ considered it. That he had known when he lowered himself down that trapdoor that night that he might never come back out alive. For all the logic she had, this was one thing she hadn’t wanted to see. One thing she’d avoided considering even as her best friend had had no other choice but to. Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."  
  
"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, his face reddening, as she let go of him.  
  
"Me!" said Hermione, and almost laughed. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and –" the rest of what she wanted to say got caught in her throat, her short breath unable to force them out. “Oh Harry -- be careful!"  
  
"You drink first," said Harry, his voice steady. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"  
  
"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered as the liquid slipped down her throat and froze her restless heart.  
  
"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.  
  
"No -- but it's like ice."  
  
"Quick, go, before it wears off." She started moving towards the fire and then turned back for one last look.  
  
"Good luck – take care."  
  
"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, people. I really will try to wrap this book up in the next chapter, and there will be actual new content in it, (probably). As for Chamber of Secrets, I was wondering what you thought about having it from Fred's perspective? If for no other reason than it would get around the whole "Hermione-is-asleep-for-the-most-exciting-part-of-the-story" thing. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in, in the comments, or if you'd prefer the story to continue in Hermione's voice. I love her, so I wouldn't mind either way. <3


	25. The Other Side of the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. There were times I thought I wouldn't be able to finish this - and I know you you doubted me too but... here we are, dear readers. The final chapter of The Philosopher's Stone. I really hope you enjoy it.

Walking back through the rooms was even more frightening when Hermione was on her own, heavy with the knowledge that Harry was facing whatever he found beyond the other wall of flames alone. She glanced nervously at the huge prone body of the troll as she scurried past it and went back through to the chess room.  
  
The pieces had all returned to their original places, intact, and for a terrifying moment, Hermione thought she might have to play back across the room alone to get to the other side. But the chess board seemed far less concerned with people walking away from the Philosopher’s Stone as it was with people walking towards it. Ron hadn’t been reset. He lay in the middle of the board exactly where he’d been knocked down, and Hermione sent a glare towards the White Queen as she ran to him.

“Ron?” She said, placing a hand gingerly on his shoulder, “Ron! Wake up!” Ron didn’t move. Hermione swallowed down her panic and took a moment to breathe. Her parents were medical professionals. She could deal with this. He was breathing, so that wasn’t a problem and – she touched her fingers to the base of his neck – his pulse was still going strong. A head wound maybe? She leant over him and gently ran her hand over the back of his head, his ginger hair fanning between her fingers. There was a lump there from where he’d hit it but he wasn’t bleeding.

“Ron!” She tried again, squeezing his shoulders more firmly, “Ron, Harry needs us!”  
Her friend moved, finally, though his eyes remained shut, one arm coming up to half-heartedly cover his face.  
  
“Ron, you need to get up, now.”  
  
“’Mionee?” He mumbled blearily, his eyelids fluttering open, “Did I win?” For a moment she thought he was still dreaming, before she realised he was talking about the chess game, that felt like it had happened an eternity ago. She let out a shaky breath.  
  
“Yes, Ron. You won. You got us to the other side.” A half smile spread across Ron’s face. “But Harry’s gone on without us. He’s fighting alone.”  
  
She watched the pride drain from his face, and his eyes finally focussed properly on her face.  
  
“What d’you mean he’s alone?”  
  
“I’ll explain on the way – we have to go back and get Dumbledore.” He stared at her for an agonising three seconds before nodding. 

She stood and helped him to his feet by one sweaty hand. He seemed steady, and even if he wasn’t, the look on face told her he was going to get the job done anyway. She was surprised to find that the same steady resolve was burning in her too. She was terrified for Harry, of course, but she wasn’t panicking. She had to do what she had to do now.

They used the brooms from the flying key room to get back up to Fluffy’s room, and, without needing to discuss it, stayed on them until they had shot past the three-headed dog. They didn’t have time to stop and play him to sleep. Hermione could only deal with flying for so long, however, and once they got out of the third floor corridor, she leapt from the uncomfortable seat and continued at almost the same speed, running up to the owlry, the sound of footfall and heavy breathing behind her alone alerting her to the fact that Ron had followed suit.

They had just gotten to the entrance hall, however, when Professor Dumbledore himself appeared like a saving apparition in front of them. For a moment she couldn’t speak with shock, and Ron still seemed out of breath and dizzy from his recent physical trials, but the Headmaster, it appeared, did not need their information anyway.  
  
“Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?” Dumbfounded, Hermione found herself nodding, and then – as quickly as he had appeared – the white-haired man had left, his purple robes whipping out of sight behind him.  
  
Hermione turned to see Ron’s face reflecting her own confusion and astonishment.  
  
“You don’t think…?” Hermione couldn’t tell if Ron was leaving the sentence open for effect or if his head injury had affected him more than she’d thought. In either case, it seemed logical what they should do next.  
  
“Come on.” She said, “We need to go to the hospital wing.”  
  
“No, no” Ron started shaking his head emphatically before apparently realising this wasn’t a good idea, wincing, “We need to go back to see if Harry’s –”  
  
“Dumbledore’s with him now,” She said, sounding calmer than she felt, “And… he’ll probably end up there anyway if…” She knew exactly why _she_ was leaving the sentence open. Ron pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.  
  
“Okay.” He said quietly, and they headed off.

*

Ron was lying in a bed in the hospital wing. Hermione’s gaze was constantly shifting between watching him try to stay awake and looking anxiously at the door. Madam Pomfrey had been amazed to hear Hermione’s rushed explanation of why Ron was showing up in the middle of the night with a head injury, covered in grey ceramic dust, but when she’d finished, all the matron did was press her lips together and say:

“I suppose we’ll be getting another patient soon, too.” Hermione supposed she was used to – if not this, then – things in this league.

That had been half an hour ago.

Finally, she heard muted voices outside the door, and it swung open to reveal Harry being levitated gently in the air. She clapped her hands over her mouth as she saw his limp body, but when Dumbledore entered after him, wand raised, he smiled reassuringly. A second later, however, her horror was replaced by fury.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ron hissed, apparently thinking along the same lines, as Snape followed behind. The Potions Master’s face twisted into a disapproving sneer. Hermione recovered from her shock enough to speak.  
  
“Professor Dumbledore? Wasn’t he trying to steal the stone?”  
  
“Severus?” Said Dumbledore, sounding mildly surprised as he lowered Harry into the bed beside Ron, “No, Miss Granger. Professor Snape has been trying very hard to protect the Stone this whole year.” Snape shot Hermione a sardonic smile. She blinked.  
  
“Protect the Stone?” She repeated, as Dumbledore turned to face her, “Then who…?”  
  
“I think you may have been slightly confused,” he said, smiling benignly, “it is in fact Professor Quirrell with whom Harry has just met.”  
  
“Quirrell?” Hermione and Ron said together, equally shocked, but then Hermione’s brain started putting things together.

“Of course…” She murmured, almost to herself, “the potion puzzle was Snape’s and the troll was Quirrell’s. He’s the one who let one in at Halloween…” Her gaze shot back to Dumbledore, frowning, “But then… you’ve known the whole year? That he was after it?” The Headmaster was nodding sagely.  
  
“Not quite the whole year, no, but yes. I had been aware of Professor Quirrel’s intentions for some time.”  
  
“And you just let him carry on?” She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice but she doubted her success.  
  
“As I said, Severus was working very hard to protect the Stone.” Hermione’s mouth worked around other things she could say to him, but it was Ron who spoke next.  
  
“What happened, then?” He said, half demanding, half submissive, “Where’s Quirrell? What did he do to Harry?”  
  
“I think the more important thing is what Harry did to him, Mr. Weasley. You see, Professor Quirrell is dead.”  
  
“And a fortunate thing, too,” sneered Snape.  
  
“Severus,” warned the Headmaster, but before he could continue, Professor McGonagall strode into the room, her tartan dressing gown rippling around her.

“Rare as it is,” she said brusquely upon her entry, “I find myself agreeing with Professor Snape.” Her eyes moved from Harry to Ron and then settled on Hermione. “I suppose I should congratulate you,” she said archly, “On besting my chess game.” Hermione gaped at her for a second and then cleared her throat.  
  
“Actually,” She said primly, “It was Ron that got us through the chess board.” Hermione watched as McGonagall’s eyes, disbelieving and reluctant, slid from Hermione, frizzy-haired bookworm Hermione – to Ron, who was grinning blearily at her from the hospital bed. She looked Snape dead in the eye.  
  
“ _I_ beat the potions riddle.”

*

The next three days were an odd and confusing blur. While Ron had been discharged the next day, Harry remained knocked out, so the two of them spent every free moment sitting by his bedside until Madam Pomfrey kicked them out. Another side-effect of Harry’s incapacitation was the lack of details about what had happened on the other side of the fire. In the absence of eye witness accounts, rumours became wild and elaborate. Some people were saying Harry had faced down three trolls single-handed, and then drunk a draught of living death. Others were saying Quirrell had been Voldemort himself in disguise. Hermione believed almost none of it, dodging questions in class from Parvati and Lavender, who had gently apologized for their coldness, now they wanted a story from her. She couldn’t bring herself to hold onto what felt like such ancient grudges but she still refused to talk about it with anyone who asked.

Well. Almost anyone.

“Granger!” Said Fred and George together as they pulled up chairs on either side of her.  
She had been sitting next to Harry’s bed, working on some advanced reading for second year, and looked up, startled.  
  
“You’re alive!” George cheered, clapping her on the back.  
  
“We were beginning to wonder,” Fred said overly sincerely, hand on his heart.  
  
“You’ve seen me around,” Hermione protested and, feeling slightly cornered, she pushed her chair back a little so she could look at them both at the same time. Fred scoffed.  
  
“Barely,” He said.  
  
“You’re like a ghost or something,” added George, “We just catch a glimpse of weightless –”  
  
“ – ethereally bushy – ”  
  
“ – hair and then you’re gone again.” They each tugged a stand of said hair in their fingers and she twisted out of their grasp.  
  
“Well, I’ve been a little busy,” she snapped, raising her eyebrows pointedly at Harry.  
  
“Ah, yes,” Said George wisely, “I’m sure Wonderboy will really appreciate waking up to hear you preparing him for next year’s exams.”  
  
“It’ll be just the recreational activity he needs after all this drama.” Agreed Fred. Before she could come back with a response, George added, with a careful look in his eyes:  
  
“Besides, we weren’t too busy for _you_ when _you_ asked.” Her lips pressed against each other tightly.

This is where they had her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to talk to them, to thank them for what they’d done but, yes, she had been avoiding running into them. She’d been relieved to see them walking around the school un-expelled, but was careful not to catch their eyes. Part of it was because she didn’t have the time – or the energy – at least, outside of that which she was committing to watching over Harry. But there was also the fact that she didn’t really know what to say.  
  
She didn’t know how to talk to them now. If they asked about her feelings towards them she wouldn’t know what to say. She couldn’t claim that the risk they’d taken for her meant nothing, but it was equally ridiculous to say that this one incident had fixed everything that had broken between them. What if they wanted to go back to how things were? The distancing conversation had been hard enough the first time – she didn’t want to go through it all again, this time with the added guilt that she might have led them on with her desperate request. She supposed she knew that she couldn’t avoid it forever – the Weasley twins were nothing if not persistent. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to…” She caught the identical cynical expressions on their faces and gave up on that sentence. “Look, it’s not that I’m not grateful”  
  
“Grateful?” Said Fred.  
  
“ – for what you did. I know you didn’t have any reason to help – ”  
  
“A reason to help?” Said George, half-laughing, “For one thing we still owed you from being enormous prats earlier,” His eyes slid over to his brother but he didn’t weight guilt in either direction.  
  
“For another, we’re fa- friends,” Fred skipped over the word smoothly, his face serene, “And you don’t need a reason to help friends.” She shook her head.  
  
She looked at them for a moment, and then, quietly, she said:  
  
“This doesn’t fix everything.” By the time she could bring herself to look up and meet their eyes in turn, their faces were calm. They weren’t surprised by this. George shrugged.  
  
“We didn’t expect it to,” He said gently, but Hermione caught something in his sideways look to Fred that made her wonder. The other twin shifted slightly in his chair.  
  
“Like Snape said, we had a fair amount of dues to be paid in that corridor.” His eyes were steady on hers, and she knew he wasn’t talking about outstanding homework. His mouth quirked up a little. “Consider this the first instalment.”  
  
“Another two hundred or so of them and we’ll be all settled up!” Added George cheerily, and then, when Hermione stayed quiet, he continued: “Two hundred blown up toilets is enough, right? I mean we’re only limiting ourselves because we’ll be leaving school before you do and then we’d have to sneak back in to provide distractions for you.”  
  
“We could do foot rubs instead?” Fred mused, “That’s how mum likes her dues paid…”

“I was asking a little more of you than just a foot rub!” Hermione suddenly burst out, and she saw them start at the outburst, “You could have been expelled!” For some reason their belittling of the risk they’d taken was getting her all twisted up.  
  
“Expelled?” George scoffed, “Us? Please.” He looked at her carefully, “You’re not feeling _guilty_ , are you?”  
  
“I shouldn’t have asked you take that risk.” She admitted, the words crawling up out of her throat unbidden, “And definitely not in those terms. I made it sound like you had to keep promises you made from before…” She looked down, “…everything. It wasn’t fair.” They didn’t speak again until she looked up to meet their eyes.  
  
“I reckon we must have different definitions of fair,” Fred murmured gently, “You’re talking like you forced us into something. You asked for help. We provided. It’s about time we kept some promises to you.” Hermione opened her mouth to say something but he carried on, “And no, they weren’t voided when…” She saw him struggle for words, “When you drew those lines. That was about protecting yourself, I get that – we get that – but it doesn’t mean that we can’t be on your side. That we can’t try to make up for… everything.”

Hermione was stunned into silence, processing. What was happening between them made more sense in his words than they did in hers, guilt was replaced with gratitude, emotional blackmail with loyalty. _That was about protecting yourself._ It had been, hadn’t it? Not vengeful or malicious but just a wall she needed to re-erect. She hadn’t expected them to understand that, didn’t realize that they didn’t blame her for what had happened to their friendship. She her own guilt seep out of her, her body feeling incrementally lighter.

“Besides, we were gonna blow up the toilets anyway,” Said George condescendingly, “If you could pull your head out of your own arse for two seconds you could see that your request had very little toll on us.” Her mouth opened and she scoffed incredulously.  
  
“Sorry, Hermione,” Said Fred, patting her on the shoulder bracingly, “But you’re just not that important.”  
  
“Other than the whole ‘saving-the-wizarding-world-from-Voldy thing.” Added George as an afterthought, waving this little achievement away with his hand.

For a moment, Hermione stared at them. After all this anxiety, could the conversation be over this quickly? Were things really this easy between them? They hadn’t tried to call her family again, hadn’t tried to reason through their actions with affection or loyalty. Here it was again, Fred and George making things simple, telling her what she needed to hear. She felt a smile pull up the corner of her mouth and groaned. Okay. Sure. They wanted to be on her side, they didn’t need her approval to do so and she was too tired from everything else to fight them anyway.

“There’s no proof that Quirrell was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named yet,” She said brusquely, “Besides, I never got to that bit of the chambers.”  
  
“ _I_ heard,” Said George conversationally, relaxing back into the chair, “That you drank poison to get Harry through.”  
  
“Nothing quite so _Gryffindor_.” She said sarcastically, and then settled back to tell them what actually happened. As she went through the portion of the story she knew, they interjected on occasion – _“I knew Ron must be good at something. To think, all this time, mum thought his only talent was the speed at which he could turn into a human tomato”_ – but once she was done, they sat in silence for a moment.

“So…” Said George, “Let us get this straight.”  
  
“You didn’t drink any poison?”  
  
“No, Fred,” She said, laughing, “I’m very sorry to disappoint but no, I did not drink any poison.”  
  
“Disappoint?” he replied incredulously, “ _Hermione._ ”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You were trapped between two walls of fire –”  
  
“ – with nothing but a riddle for company – ”  
  
“ – well done on memorising the whole thing, by the way – ”  
  
“ – and you still managed – ”  
  
“ – to figure all of that out?” George finished, blinking earnestly at her.  
  
“ _Without_ ,” added Fred, “Panicking.”

  


She hadn’t even thought about it properly. She remembered feeling the correct amount of horror, of course, at their predicament, but she had been breathing steadily. She hadn’t needed anyone to hand her goblet of water or guide her breathing. She’d just done what she needed to do, what she was good at – _what she knew she was good at._ Something warm filled her chest, spreading through her whole body until she felt like she must be glowing with it. She grinned at them.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so.”  
  
“ _’Nothing quite so Gryffindor’_ ” Mocked George derisively. “My arse.”  
  
“She’s enjoying a moment of glory, George, don’t make her think about your arse.” Hermione snorted unattractively but they just grinned at her.  
  
“Speaking of arses,” Said George, “Look what we managed to pick up while we were in the loos.” As if from thin air, he suddenly had a toilet seat in his hand. Hermione leant away, her nose wrinkling. As she did, her book started slipping from her lap and in her haste to get it, she fell off her seat. Or she would have done, had Fred not caught her. Still too high on her own glory to feel properly embarrassed, she still felt her face flush as he pulled her down so she was half sitting on his lap. She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled serenely back at her, giving her a brief squeeze with the arms he had around her waist.  
  
“What’re you up to?” Ron had just arrived, his bag slung across his back, and was surveying the scene with curiosity.  
  
“Miss Granger is sampling her new throne,” Said Fred in a pompous voice, “as the new princess of Gryffindor.”  
  
“I was hoping for something less ginger,” She drawled back at him.  
  
“No you weren’t,” Said George decisively, and she sent him the same questioning look.  
  
“We both know we’re exactly your type.” She stared at them blankly for a moment and then, unbidden, a laugh rose up in her throat. It had been so long since that first day on the train that she had almost forgotten the joke. 

 

_“Not got a thing for gingers, have you?” He was nodding in the direction the cat had run in and Hermione answered without thinking._  
  
_“They’re just so nice to cuddle.” She blushed – that sounded so childish. He cocked and eyebrow._  
  
_“Yeah, well maybe when we know each other better, eh?”_  


 

She looked at the way her arm had automatically slung over Fred’s shoulders and couldn’t help smiling to herself. _I guess we know each other better now. And, more importantly,_ she thought, _I know myself better_. She looked around them, Harry Potter, asleep in a hospital bed, brave and noble and heroic and Ron Weasley, smarter than he was ever given credit for, and full of fierce loyalty, Fred and George Weasley, kind and funny and exactly what she had needed… her friends. She remembered how desperate she had been to make them that first day on the Express, how she’d thrown the entirety of her abrasively swotty self into every interaction in a misguided attempt to get people on her side.

She smiled fondly as she thought of Neville, and helping him find Trevor. She had found him the day after the trap door, to apologize for the spell casting. By that time he’d already heard the story and was mortified to find he’d almost prevented them from stopping Quirrell, so it wasn’t hard to earn his friendship back. Neville, who had shown in the dead of night, with no one except them there to witness it, that he was as much a Gryffindor as anyone else in that tower. Just like her.

On the last day of term, after Harry had woken and told them everything, after Hermione and Ron had gasped in all the right places, they would sit together at the feast. When Dumbledore would dole out the extra house points, handing them out for Neville’s courage, Ron’s strategy and Harry’s… Harry-ness, he would also say _“to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”_

Hermione would burst into tears, feeling the warmth and love from all sides of her big brash Gryffindor family. There would be tears running down her face as Neville – _their Neville_ – was awarded the points that won them the cup, and she stood to cheer and applaud with everyone else.

In the confusion, she wouldn’t even see it coming when Fred Weasley, equally giddy with victory, sandwiched her skull between his hands and pressed a celebratory kiss to the corner of her mouth, and would be even more surprised to feel George do the same to her forehead. She would watch them grab Neville and kiss him too, and her laughter would bubble out of her like a waterfall that could never end.

She would be happier than she’d ever been, happier even than later, when she would find out her grades had topped the entirety of the first year, happier than when Ron would tell she and Harry both that they needed to come and stay over at some point in the Summer. She would be happy, knowing that she had a family in the wizarding world that was bright and beautiful, she would be happy knowing that these people believed in her and supported her and didn’t doubt that she belonged on their side.

But for now, Hermione was twelve years, nine months and two days old. She had known she was a witch for one year nine months and nine days. She had read two books in preparation for the next year. She was sitting in a room beside one sleeping Harry Potter. Around her, she had three Weasley boys. There were two days until the end of term, and Hermione was laughing. Later, she would be ecstatic knowing she had a whole House on her side, but right now, she was pretty happy with an army of five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! That's it for this fic never coming back okay bye.
> 
> Psyche! They haven't even had a proper kiss yet (and no, the one I included at the end there is definitely not romantic, unless your OT4 is Hermione, Fred, George and Neville, in which case, by all means, read it as thus)
> 
> I'm gonna take a little time to work out what I want to do with CoS and then I should be back writing by the end of the month - thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts about Fred's perspective being featured in the second book by the way, there was some really useful challenges you guys highlighted that I needed to think about, and it's just nice to know that there are people who would be excited to read that.
> 
> Like I've said earlier, I don't think I could keep up with showing literally every plot point in the book chapter by chapter, like I did for PS. I'm probably going to end up just rewriting key scenes and focussing mostly on any new ones I have ideas for. You guys have already read the books, you don't need me rehashing that shit for you, I just really wanted to establish these characters in the first book.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been keeping up with this fic, and has been patient with me while I juggle it with uni stuff, and has left me kudos and nice comments and generally been wonderful. I would not have had the motivation to finish this story without your feedback.
> 
> If you're discovering this fic many a-moon into the future then hello, I hope by the time you're reading this that there's at least one sequel linked here, and I hope I didn't take up too much of your valuable time with making you binge the whole thing. It's never too late to comment and talk to me about what you'd like to see coming up or just what you liked/didn't like about this story - I know it wasn't perfect and I'd really like to keep improving as we go on.
> 
> Okay, I think this is the longest author note ever - I'll stop now, I swear. Thank you again <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I will hopefully be continuing this series by the end of this month, so be sure to follow the series, if you'd like to see that.


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